How to cover it all?

Well, the reason for the title is because it's way to complicated. It's not possible to fit all of this into a clever phrase. Maybe I should practice that more often. I love randomized titles. My knitting's thread has gotten into a huge tangle and my father is trying to fix it. I'm waiting, but during that time I need more distraction tonight. I'm so scared. I wish someone would find me crying or see how scared I am. I wish someone could comfort me and make it alright. I feel like sleeping forever, I feel like running and never stopping to run, but I can't flee what's inside of me. I realize that I have mensioned my drunk thursday long ago on "It Can Only Get Better". I have started thinking more and more. Maybe the only way to protect others from me is that I stay in one room, preferably locked and isn't unlockable by me, and that noone can come in without the actual key, but how on earth would that work? I hate myself! I'm confused, but I'm also lost. Maybe I shouldn't even care for Vendela. She, like I may have mentioned, deserves someone who is a better person. I may even be evil and yes, it does bother me. I don't understand. May I have been the bad girl even since preschool? May I have invented something or may I just have been horrible and he had tried to make me do things. Maybe I was never abused by my assistant? Maybe my parents got things wrong and thought he was mistreating me, but it was just a fake? Did anyone ever see the abuse? And I feel even more horrible. I can't understand how I can come out right. I feel lost, but I like part of this feeling, wich is a bad thing. I don't really know how I can like it. It's horrible to be a fake! It's horrible to be me, but I don't know how I can ever change! I don't pity myself. I am no longer a person; I am an object designed to get attention and to make things wrong, but I have been a child, just an ordinary child, and I have had dreams... I hope. I just can't remember them. I have still got some kind of dreams, but I think they aren’t as empty as my conscience is. I wish I could be me. I wish I could wake and feel again. I'm numb inside and there's no apparent way to bring me and my emotional sensitivity back. I'd rather cry for everything than because of my reasons or fakes. I want to talk, but what can I say? Everything gets weaved into lies. It’s like trying to find the way out, but always getting stuck in spiderweb no matter where you turn. I've never understood anything. Now I'll go in to funnier things. I bought a collar to my sister's dog for one or two weeks ago and Hanny loved it. I bought a different one for Vendela and she will have to get used to it. She is adorable in it. I love my guitalele. It's the best instrument ever. I have seen small guitars before, but they are usually untunable. This is a small instrument that sounds like a ukulele but it has strings that are played like a guitar. Also it's not untunable. My brother had a guitar wich I, from deep frustration after several hours work, wanted to throw out through the window. I only resisted the urge because it's not mine. This wasn't a very good thing. But my new guitalele is brilliant. I could even learn the chord I call "the dreaded F" and it worked. I still need help with how to play Bm, C#, Bb (halfway done), b, all raised or lower chords and so on. I know C, Am, Em, E, G, D, Dm and A. Also I know some chords that I don't know the name on. I love music and that's what's keeping my core alive, a little like different machines can keep a human alive if the brain doesn't work and the rest does. I've become a monster without apparent conscience, but actually there is a conscience there. I wanted to talk to my father, but I couldn't. It wouldn't help, because I lie constantly and I invent stories to seem better. Anyway I have retuned my wonderful new instrument. I still am amazed. It's odd how I didn't know this existed. I wanted to be able to play that ukulele-sound, but I knew that since there were just four strings it would have to be tuned differently and I would have to learn new chords. now, however, I can play and it sounds like a ukulele, because I've got this little friend. I think I may call her rose? Yep, I name the instruments, but you probably know all that already. I have written those somewhere here... though some names aren't right. I don't have any instrument named something with penis. Why should I have that. I have got no sexual desire. I'm just nineteen and it's better to wait than to rush such things. It's quite strange. I'm neither attractive, not cute or beautiful, I don't seem very wonderful or so. No guy would look at me with love intentions. Well, I was supposed to try to post every day, but this is compiled from a bit of Saturday, Sunday, Monday, thuesday and this wednesday. Maybe it would be thursday for others, but I just don’t want to try to focus on dates and timezones. I remember having to find my timezone several times and that of course took a century. I am starting to become suicidal again. I want to leave; I just want to leave. I can’t stay like this. I am tired, I’m scared, I’m sad, I’m disgusted and I’m completely soaked in trouble. I’m tired of being troubled by nightmares and my own fakes. I don’t want to have to go through all this pain. Well, I know I am looking for relief. I know that’s no way to get it. I keep sharp objects away from me, because if not I’m afraid I’ll suddenly hurt myself or even worse, someone around me. I just want to open up the nearest little window, or just jump right through the glass. I want to soak into the walls or just soak into the floor. I want to become like flowing jelly and just flow away. They wouldn’t have to dry me up; I would, like I said, soak into the floor or ground and be gone. This would prevent others from the burden I’m carrying and also giving. I shouldn’t lean things on someone else. I’m feeling sick and it’s from my hate and fear of who I am. I can’t contain myself. Things keep going wrong and I can’t turn them right. I go hoping that the day will be over, but the next one is no better. I don’t really understand what to do. I told my father I didn’t want to go to Norway with all the others, but he is yelling and threatening me again. I’ve had enough of having to go through this. I just want to escape. I know I can; it's easy to run, but they will find me.