44. JOURNEY WITHOUT A DESTINATION

 

2023 was the year, that I could, at last, say that I had been happy with my life. I was surrounded by lovely people, as firstly I was still visited by my friends and my parents and secondly I was living with Anna and Ingmar. At the same time, since mid-October, I had started getting involved with the play, which I hoped would be staged during mid-2023. The transcription was now complete. I was planning to come back from the journey in the Caucasus and then, start rehearsing with the theatre group.

In mid-January, I met Collins in Rhodes island, in Greece. Although it was winter, the Mediterranean climate wasn't that cold for me, as I was used to the Scandinavian winter. In Rhodes, we hopped on a boat and reached Bodrum in Turkey. I really loved Turkey and its music, however, I was getting extremely pissed, when everybody was trying to bargain with you. Honestly, in Turkey, people were forcing you to buy anything, even if in the end they let you pay only 1 euro. Collins and I rented a car, as we had to reach the Caucasus. We had very interesting discussions all the way. As I have mentioned before, Collins characterised herself as an atheist and a Marxist and she used very powerful arguments to support her opinions. I was an atheist too, but I can't say I was a Marxist at all. My grandfather, Lauri, was a Communist, though not exactly a Stalin-friendly one. In general, my grandfather's kin had the tendency to be really altruistic, in the sense that we are all equal with one another, that's why we have to love our fellow man. Whatsoever, my grandfather's brother was a priest. Thus, when you see two brothers, and one of them is a Communist and the other one a priest, then there's some connection to it, even though Communists also often are atheists, just like in Collins' occasion. For my own part, I was always inclined to left-wing beliefs and until 2023 I was supporting Communism, exactly because I was highly influenced by my grandfather. I had also composed a relative song in our first album. However, I can't say that I had real knowledge about politics at such a young age. However, when I read a specific book, I realised that there are instincts and tendencies. That's why, not everything is a social construction, but indeed human nature plays a very important role. And of course, part of human nature is our own tendency to compete, as selfish and wicked as it might sound.

At some point, Collins told me that she really likes Greece, as she knew that my father had a Greek origin. She also told me that, whenever she drives in Syntagma, the city centre of Athens, she likes listening to Vangelis' Heaven and Hell. I smiled. Was she joking? It was me the one who liked doing this as well. I knew that Vangelis was a Greek musician, that's why, whenever I would be driving in Syntagma, I would play Heaven and Hell in the car!! I told her.

"You have diverse musical preferences", she answered.

We collected music from several villages in Turkey. I was impressed by the fact that Collins could speak Turkish and Greek. I could also speak Greek, but not Turkish. I knew only some words. However, Turkish had a common system with Finnish, which was my natural language, as both languages were agglutinative and also featured a vowel harmony. Only that, as I was told, both features were much more complex in Turkish.

A few days later, we went to the Caucasus. Or we....climbed, because, in order to get there, you need to climb the mountains. There were villages with a tradition, dating to antiquity. Their music was polyphonic and still remains pentatonic. And people were so hospitable. They didn't speak English and of course, we couldn't speak Georgian -- because now we had already reached Georgia. They had a very special way to produce wine and scientists believe that this is the place which is producing the most ancient wine on the globe. Anyway, I have to say that, even though I am a huge fan of wine and I know a lot about its production, I've never in my life tasted such a delicious wine as the Georgian. Furthermore, they were cooking a delicious cheese pie, which I also learnt to make myself.

So, in February 2023, I returned to Norway with a lot of material in my hands. I believe that this was the most meaningful fieldwork I'd ever carried out. Although we didn't travel to any other countries than Turkey and Georgia, I think that the material that we collected was enough. I didn't stay long in Norway, as I went on a small trip with Nancy in Northern Britain. Although she was living in Yorkshire, she had a cottage house in a place, called Borrowdale, which was located in Cumbria.

"Do you also have a cottage house?", she asked.

"What am I supposed to do with it?", I said laughing. "Whatsoever, my own house is a large cottage house".

"Vivian had told me that you had built a cabin on an island in Ireland".

Yes, I had. I had my 'little island'. I used to go there all the time when we were recording Mother Nature. On this island, I had bought two land acres and I had built a small hut. But I abandoned Arranmore many years ago.

"I can show you the place", I told Nancy and we set off to Ireland, where I hadn't set foot in for two years. 

Thus, I returned to Ireland, without feeling any nostalgia at all. Indeed, when I saw Ireland's fields again, I felt my chest heavy and I had a sick feeling, as my memories of the previous years arose. No, I wasn't like that anymore. Now, I was fine and anything that happened was now in the past. That's why I did a new start, so I knew I would never live permanently in Ireland again.

I showed Nancy my old house and then we headed to the harbour so that we could travel to the opposite side, in Arranmore. I would usually rent a boat after I sold mine one, and I would reach the opposite side. However, when I reached the harbour, a great surprise was waiting for me. Now, you couldn't rent a boat, but there were frequent ferry services, as Arranmore had become a tourist attraction. I was rather upset with that change, however, I accepted it and Nancy and I travelled by the first service.

Arranmore had changed. When I bought these land acres, the island was almost uninhabited. Now, not only were houses built and people were permanently living there, but you could also find cafeterias. I had even read in the local Donegal newspaper, that inhabitants of Gweedore appealed to Irish people, who had moved to the States, to repatriate and live in Arranmore. I didn't think negatively about the development of a place. I'm not one of these people who believe that rapid changes mean destruction. Quite the contrary. I like to see people moving forward and make progressive ideas real. However, the change of this particular island, Arranmore, hurt me and this, of course, is nothing but a personal issue of mine. Arranmore had been my own shelter when I believed I couldn't keep track of the real world, which I was a part of. But psychotherapy helped me learn that I don't need to find any shelter at all so that I could protect myself from people and reality. What I actually need is real communication with people I love and care about and of course to be able to make my dreams come true, without being scared at all. And the fact that I wasn't alone, when I visited Arranmore again, two years later, was salvific to my mental health. I don't know if I would be able to face watching this alone. Nancy was a good friend and made me feel safe, even though we didn't say anything to each other about feelings. Nancy and I went to see my hut. It was almost destroyed. I felt a deep sorrow and kept gazing long at it as if I were lost. I jumped up when I suddenly heard Nancy's voice: "Ingrid, shall we go? It's getting dark soon". For a moment, I forgot she was there too. "Yes, Nancy. We'd better go back".

While we were at the boat, Nancy told me: "You are upset, aren't you?".

I sighed. "I've got many good memories from that place".

Not only Arranmore was what had changed. Ireland itself was transformed in my view. And it was so funny because I was away no more than two years ago.

I returned home, in Kirkenes, with my hands full of presents for everybody. I was feeling so happy, that I wanted to show every dear person of mine how much I cared about them. Kirkenes was full of snow, just like it always used to be at that time of the year. When I opened the gate of the house, I noticed Anna outside. A tiny red beanie hat was covering her cute blonde hair. "Ingrid!", she exclaimed, when she saw me, and she rushed towards me.

"My love!", I said and held her high in my arms, giving her a kiss. Oh, I really loved that child.

When I entered home, I showed Ingmar what kind of music Collins and I had collected and he noticed how happy I'd been with our achievements. "This is what I like to see from you, youngster", he said. "To make your dreams come true".

So, I sent every music I had collected to the other members. And then, I started composing songs for our next album. The vibe was completely new to me. On the one hand, it'd been ages since I had last written music inspired by positive feelings and on the other hand, the place I was composing in, was my own house, which was located close to the place, where I was born, Kongsgambukta bay. This time, my lyrics had a more universal meaning and concerned the journey without a destination and without a map, a topic, I had an obsession with, for years. Now, I wasn't that much referring to negative feelings, nor did I feel a pain in my chest, when I was composing. On the contrary, I was full of euphoric feelings as well as love, let alone the fact that I was extremely lovesick.

The album had a much heavier sound than the previous ones, in the sense that our music wasn't inspired only by Pink Floyd, but by hard rock bands also, just like Iron Maiden. I believe that this style fitted more to me, as my voice wasn't lyrical at all, in contrast to Dina's. And of course, the album's notable feature was the fact that it was highly influenced by Eastern music. However, this doesn't mean that it didn't have Celtic elements at all. Quite the opposite! I had written two songs in a completely Celtic style: the one was called Amhrán na Chroí (Song of the heart), which was referring to the journey without a destination. It was highly inspired by Braveheart's soundtrack because I really loved James Horner. The other song was my love letter to harbour oil, but also the reviving of the memory of the deadly tsunami in Indonesia, during Christmas, 2004. Its name was Raging Oceans and it also had a Celtic style. Nancy would play tin whistles, flute and uilleann pipes in both songs. 

The album, in general, had a rather positive vibe, as far as its topics were concerned. I wasn't talking about personal experiences that much anyway. However, there was a specific song, which was the sibling of my book, Black Notebook. Its name was The Sky Moves Backwards and the title was inspired by Porcupine Tree's album, The Sky Moves Sideways. It was the longest song I had ever composed, as it lasted about 22 minutes. The story was the same that Black Notebook described. Originally, it consisted of three parts and lasted 17 minutes. However, when I sent the demo to Dina, in the States, by e-mail, she replied to me it was a masterpiece and that she's happy that our songs are getting even better, but she would be pleased if the song had a happier ending. Thus, I composed a really beautiful finale, according to which our heroine, now named Thaleia, wakes up in the grass and the sun is shining on her face. She follows an unknown path, which leads her to a completely new life. That's why now it's time we were free from wounds of the past. Even though the wounds are still open, we shall not bleed anymore. And what will save us, is the journey to the future. So, I sent Dina the new demo, changing, in addition, some lyrics, which were completely macabre and nightmarish. She replied to me, that, first, this was the best song I'd ever composed and, secondly, it had the most beautiful finale she had ever listened to my songs.

During the time we were composing our songs, in March my mum visited me. While we were sitting close to the fireplace, drinking coffee, she placed some notebooks on the table.

"What are these?", I asked.

"I found them inside a box at home".

I opened them and I noticed they were marine diaries and memoirs, belonging to my grandfather, Lauri. I took a look at them and realised that his style resembled mine so much. Probably, my mum had the same thought and she said to me: "Now I see where you have inherited your writing talent from". I smiled.

"Grandpa could see something on me", I said. "Did you know that it was me the one he talked to before he passed?".

"Really? And what did he say?".

"That I had to make my dreams come true".

My mum remained silent for a while.

I flicked through them. "Hmm, these are of great worth", I answered. "I believe they should be published. What do you think?".

"For sure!", she exclaimed.

"I'll talk to Kati and you try and communicate with your other sisters, Maija and Lina. If I don't take any permission, I can't do anything. I don't want to get involved with any lawsuit again", I said laughing.

"You're such an idiot kid!", my mum said.

A few days later, my mum told me that her sisters granted permission. So, I went to a publishing house and published the books. And this was an act, which for me honoured my grandfather's memory because to me he was the most important member of my family.

In April, I received a phone call from the organisers of the Celtic festival, who announced the dates to me. "I'm not taking part this year either", I said. "I might do next year". I didn't want to return to Ireland, not after I had seen Arranmore. It was still early and I hadn't completely get past my traumas from that place. My memories were still awake and I didn't want to have nightmares nor did I want to suffer insomnia again. However, in April I set off to Wales along with Alexandria, as we were about to record our eighth album. But, time was pressuring me so much, as I should also start rehearsing with the theatre group. This means that I couldn't be in the studio all these three months constantly. Also, time was pressuring me, because the album was going to be folkier than ever, so we should be in Bristol too, in order to record the parts of our traditional/folk ensemble orchestra. I met with the other guys and we agreed on the fact that I would be in England only at times. This way, I could also be close to my family.

During all the time we were in Rockfield, I could notice a change in relation to the previous years. To start with, that was the first album we were recording without Dina (I don't consider that Storms in the Darkness was REALLY an album), so the feeling was quite different. Now, I was on lead vocals and I didn't have to do just backing vocals anymore nor take only a few songs to sing. Furthermore, the atmosphere had a more UK aura, given the fact that three out of five members came from or were permanent inhabitants of the UK, while only Lulu and I were Norwegians. I didn't mind at all. If anything, I loved the UK so much. After Norway and Australia, it has been my favourite country.

When our sound engineer saw me, he said:

"You've become really beautiful lately".

"Are you flirting with me?", I answered back in a joke.

"Why?", he said affectionately. "Do you intend to get married already?".

He politely patted me on my back. "I'm glad you're much better now".

I was also glad that I was much better now. And the state of my mental health had as a consequence that I was meticulously taking care of myself. Christ! Back in 2023, I was a smoking hot chick and I'm not exaggerating at all. But my beauty was more or less natural. I can't say I was ever wearing excessive make-up, though I was really fond of dark eyeshadow. Even when I was in the theatre, I would use that kind of make-up. I had the beauty of an artist, who is playing lyrical drama. Sofia used to tell me that I looked like a girl, painted on a portrait of the Renaissance.

Having this kind of beauty, which suited perfectly in my acting, I returned to Norway, where I met the theatre group. I don't behave my colleagues in the theatre in the same way as I do in my band. The band wants me to be the boss about everything, that's why they are calling me their meisterin, however, this really gets on my nerves. The fact that I am Alexandria's lyricist doesn't mean that I have to be like a bogey, who should supervise everything. That's why I was rather happy that I didn't stay all this time in Rockfield. Lydia accused me of being despotic. I couldn't let her be right. At the theatre, though, things were really different. While at the theatre, I'm not just bossy, I'm the boss indeed. At the theatre, nobody shall even move, without my own permission. Of course, this doesn't mean that people are afraid of me or anything like that. If anything, we are really good friends. However, the theatre has nothing to do with the music industry. When I first started writing scripts, everybody in the theatre treated me as if I were a whore. They even tried to force me to dress in a specific style, to have a specific type of hair and they even tried to determine how I was going to write my plays. Thus, I was forced to stamp my foot on the ground and in the end, I should become the one who would give orders. It was me the one who was doing everything and giving roles to the actors. Of course, I was always open to people's opinions and if someone didn't agree on something, I was willing to listen to their own opinion. Thus, I met with the team along with Kristina. I told the rest of the guys: "Let's give a warm welcome to our new friend, Kristina. She is going to have Daisy's role".

I think that never before had rehearsals gotten that well. In general, the work had a great amount of difficulty, in the sense that it was rather dramatic, so the actors had to be very expressive. Even Daisy's role, which had a more everyday style, at the end, where she found her friend dead, required a great expressive ability. The most difficult part for me was the end, there where I, as the heroine, draw the blade and kill myself. Truly, this move, by itself, was bringing many bad memories in my mind and was making me live the same nightmare again, as in my mind there was still the picture of Eva's corpse lying on the floor. I was trying to persuade myself, thinking This is your own catharsis, but a nightmare is a nightmare.

On the other hand, there were also funny moments among the team. In that particular scene, when I have to draw the blade, the lights are off. However, once, as it was too dark and I couldn't see a thing, instead of holding the knife by its handle, I held it by its blade. So, when the lights went off, everybody heard me screaming, OWWW!!! Furthermore, during the first time we rehearsed, the actors realised that after my suicide, they'd have to carry my body away from the stage. Thus, some guy said: "What? Are we going to carry such a big weight?".

"Oh, come on, please", I said in a burst of laughter. "Last year, I lost ten kilos".

In the end, we realised that two people weren't enough to lift me up, due to my height, thus a third person was needed.

So, in May 2023 the premiere of the play took place, in which every inhabitant of Kirkenes came. I warned familiar people of mine, that they shouldn't be taken aback when they would see me die. However, I didn't warn my parents, because they were also actors and I would like to take them by surprise. Prior to the show, I was alone in the dressing room, getting myself ready. I looked at myself in the mirror and smiled. I'd never seen myself beautiful before. I was wearing a long black dress with a silver belt on my waist. My hair was down and dark. I was playing along with my hair and laughed, as I remembered the discussion I had with Ingmar some days before in bed. Then, when he touched my hair and said: "Honey, why don't you dye your hair red?".

"Do you want me to be a redhead?", I said smiling.

"Me?". He laughed. "You look like a fairy in that hair".

A fairy? How sweet!

"I used to have red hair a few years ago".

"I've seen photos. It really suited you".

Then I whispered to my boyfriend: "The Poet has dark hair".

He winked at me: "When the Poet is over, dye your hair red".

"Ingrid, are you coming?", a voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

"One second", I replied. "I'm still getting ready". It was Sofia.

"Well, all I see is that you touch your hair and you are smiling. Lovesick girl".

Me, a lovesick girl? Does she think I'm just a foolish teenage girl? I would experience love with real feelings and not wishy-washy bullshit, as some other girls did.

I walked to the stage. In order to put away any anxiety, I did everything I was also doing in the other shows. You're not Ingrid now. You're the Poet, I thought.

The show was a huge success. Indeed, during the moment I drew the blade, though some people from the audience exclaimed, I didn't freak out at all. Also, in the end, when I was carried, I achieved not laugh. When the play was over and the actors appeared on stage, the applause was loud like a roar. But, when I appeared in the end, the applause became even bigger. I honestly felt so touched, because it was the best work I'd ever written and staged in my life. On the other hand, when I went off to change clothes, I came down with a feeling of great sorrow, as my mind was once again filled with nightmarish memories. During the moment I was wiping my tears away, Kristina came in.

"Ingrid, is everything alright? What's the matter with you?".

"Nothing", I said and sniffled. "I got too emotional. That's all".

"We rocked, didn't we?".

"Mmm...hmmm", I mumbled and turned to leave.

"Hey", Kristina approached me. "The play affected you, right?".

"Sort of", I said. Kristina hugged me.

The play was staged in other cities of Norway too. Furthermore, we played in Alta two nights in a row, for the sake of my beloved sister, Johanna.

In June 2023, the album and the traditional orchestra were recorded. The album cover depicted a red tent in a forest and it was inspired by a drawing, which Anna gave to me. I hadn't found a title for our album yet. However, Vivian suggested that its name be related to something primordial. Then, I jokingly replied to her that we would name it primordial soup. She burst into laughter. "I hope you're kidding", she said.

"Of course, I am", I replied.

Eventually, the album was named The Ancestor's Voice and in the credits we added Amanda Collins' name too because without her contribution there would be no album. It was released on the 18th of September, 2023.

43. A NEW START

 

Anna started school in Kirkenes, as her new house was now in Jakobsnes. And at the beginning of October, Alexandria was met with a new start, concerning the topic and the themes of the songs. In October 2022, I took Anna with me and we spent a weekend in Yorkshire, where the other members of the band were too. When they saw Anna, suddenly their mood became happier, as the youngster's presence would always cheer us up. We were in Yorkshire due to band business. And this business concerned the audition and, ultimately, hiring of this girl, who would be playing Irish pipes in the band. She was a girl, two years older than me, her name was Nancy and she had long dark hair. Our style and appearance were very common, though she had a more gothic appearance (even though she didn't look like a metalhead at all, nor had she anything to do with those people), while I had a more vintage style, of a Victorian era, mainly due to the acts I was playing on the theatre.

Nancy and I instantly hit it off. And that's a real paradox because we had completely opposite characters. I was a very reserved person and not that sociable, whereas Nancy was constantly joking around, she was trying to have small talk with everybody and in general everybody wanted to be her best friend. I can't say I was an easy-to-talk-to person at all, exactly because the older I was getting, the less typical affairs did I like to have with people around me. Either there's an honest friendship between us or we're no friends at all. And this is the second paradox as far as my friendship with Nancy is concerned. It took me ages to finally trust someone and be friends with them, especially during later years after the lawsuit. If we did in the end, I would keep people at a great distance, in the sense that I would put a limit concerning the time I would spend with them, what I would offer to them as a part of myself etc. I'm aware of the fact that this was rather selfish on my part and I don't feel proud at all about it. It's only that I've been a lone wolf and I can achieve being mentally healthy, only if I don't have any neighbours if I live in the middle of nowhere with my family and my animals if I spend as much time as I need with myself and the most important if I don't have to let anyone know about what I'm doing. Anyway, things weren't like that with Nancy. I could spend an eternity with her, fooling around, as if we were some eighteen-year-old teenagers and we could be spending time together, seeing each other's face for a whole week and it didn't matter at all. Of course, I have to say that I have always had a preference for people who come from Northern England, Scotland and Ireland, because of their humour. Furthermore, after my two past shitty years, my heart was longing for some laughter and light.

Nancy joined the band, playing the pipes, flutes, tin & low whistle. Furthermore, she accepted to bring in some additional keys. I explained to her that I had had an operation on my wrist, due to a thumb fracture, and that I couldn't play our old songs with those fast keyboard riffs that easily anymore. She replied to me in a completely normal tone: "No problem, dear". Thus, with me on lead female vocals and Bryan on lead male vocals, we got into work, in order to compose our eighth studio album. I have already mentioned above that, after the incidents of the years 2021-2022, the band changed completely, concerning the topic of the songs. After Black Notebook, I promised myself that I would never be in such a terrible mental state. Yes, all these depressing songs and books I was writing would very often help me get over my pain because I would let all this get out, at least in a paper. However, when you produce an Art, especially when you write a psychobiography, your aim is that your audience will become touched, when reading your work, so you make it as emotional as you can, often exaggerating a little bit about your feelings. I had realised that this kind of exaggeration was what would kill me. For example, in my Art, I would represent the fact that I had bad self-esteem in such a harsh way, that I would literally throw myself in the rubbish. Even in my latest book, I was a heroine who ended up killing herself. And of course, every time I would write a dramatic scene in a book, I was feeling so bad about myself, that I would break into tears. Well, I didn't want to be like that anymore. I wanted to write someone else's story and not mine. I was completely bored to keep on writing my diary, something I had been doing since Kansi was released. After all, it's completely selfish to write only about yourself, because in the end your audience will get too bored and will not be able to relate to your work at all.

Coincidentally, during this time, I had started watching a documentary about the music of Asia Minor and the rest of Turkey, Armenia, Afghanistan and in general music of the people living in this geographical area. At some point, the narrator of the documentary made the following comment: "All those people inhabit the same neighbourhood". Since that time, I would watch the documentary with great pleasure, as I really liked that statement. I knew that those people were in each other's throats, mainly due to religious differences, however, music was something that bonded them with each other. My father, as an ethnology graduate, had taught me that nobody is our enemy and we are all siblings, whereas my mother, as a biology graduate, had taught me that all people (as well as all species) come from a single common ancestor, so we are all cousins. I would really like to compose an album, which would have influences from the music of Asia Minor. Some years ago, we had made fieldwork in Mediterranean countries with the band, but we'd never been to Asia Minor or the Caucasus.

I can recall that I had invited Vivian, Bryan and Nancy to my new house. We were discussing the common features of those peoples and my motto was the narrator's phrase: All those people inhabit the same neighbourhood. Then, I suddenly remembered a professor of mine at the University. So, I said:

"Guys, some years ago, a professor of mine, who is an ethnologist, had told me that, if we ever wanted to compose an album consisting of music inspired by Asia Minor, she could help us".

"Have you still got a contact with her?", Nancy asked.

"No", I replied. "However, back then she gave me her phone number and her e-mail".

"What's her name?", Vivian asked.

"Amanda Collins", I answered.

"I do remember her", she said. "You can communicate with her. She was very fond of you back in the days".

I folded my arms and pouted my lips.

"I'm feeling shy!", I exclaimed.

Vivian burst into laughter. "Jesus Christ, Ingrid!".

"Really", I said. "I'm feeling shy. Could anyone of you do this?".

"No", she said firmly. "Your own professor and your own idea. So, you are the one who has to get her".

I sighed, however, I decided to send her an e-mail, in which I wrote who I was and that I needed some recording material. Although she herself had offered to help me a few years ago, for some reason I was feeling sure she wouldn't answer. Furthermore, this fear of mine became more intense, as days went by and I hadn't received any answer at all. Two weeks later, Anna and I went on a small trip to Disneyland, in Paris. There, I saw I had received an e-mail from Collins, in which she was writing that she was so glad to hear news from me and that I had always been her favourite student. And the most important! She suggested we make fieldwork together in the Caucasus during early 2023. As long as this was arranged, until January I could deal with anything, which had nothing to do with the band.

Even though I wasn't dealing with music at all, then again there were many things I could do. Coincidentally, during these days I received a video on my e-mail by a blonde girl with braids. In the beginning, I thought she was some foolish fan, however, this is what she said in the video:

"Heeey! My name is Kristina Jenssen and I come from Bodø. I read your book, Black Notebook [she frowned], the one with the Poet, as you were saying, and I found it to be a masterpiece. I'm an actress and I stage plays, which are highly related to your book, as far as the plot is concerned. Well, the reason why I sent you this video was, because I wanted to suggest we stage your book at the theatre and because you are an excellent actress, you should have the Poet's role. I hope you agree and I'd be rather glad if I receive a positive reply. Greetings, Kristina".

I switched off the video and burst into laughter. It was obviously a gag. How stupid did some people think I was? But even if it wasn't a hoax, this story belonged to the past for me. There were no black notebooks anymore, nor Poets, nor broken hearts and, of course, there were no suicides. Then what? Would I ever stage a play on the theatre, in which I would stab myself? To start with, people wouldn't stand watching something like this. So, I didn't even bother to answer to this pigtails actress -- if she was indeed an actress.

However, some noon I invited Jesikka and Sofia to my place for lunch. The girls love spaghetti and they have great pleasure in trying my own specialities. Then, while cooking, I said: "You can also stay for dinner if you like".

"This is impossible", Sofia said. "We have to go to a show in Alta".

"What kind of show?", I asked out of curiosity.

"A play".

"Oh! And who is the director?".

"I have no idea", Sofia said. "However, the protagonist's name is Kristina Jenssen. Do you know her?"

"No, but....".

"She's not a famous actress, but she's excellent and....".

"Is she a blonde with pigtails?", I asked.

Sofia laughed. "I don't know if she has pigtails, but, yes, she's blonde".

I told her about the e-mail and the video.

"Don't tell me that you thought it was a hoax", she said.

"Excuse me, but when something like this suddenly pops in your e-mails, where does your mind get to?".

"Don't be silly. Your book was a huge success. If you stage it at the theatre too, it'll be even a bigger success".

I looked at her right in the eyes and said seriously: "Yes, I am going to stage a play, in which I kill myself before the audience and then I'm carried away by those people who find me with a knife in my throat. Well, I believe that, if people watch something like this, they'll find themselves in a mental health clinic and I'll find myself in a prison cell".

"You're stupid", she said. "You could only show the knife and not completely show the suicide. I can get involved in this if you like. The minute you are about to draw the knife, the curtain falls. How do you like this?".

"Good idea", I said. "But....I....do I have to live this again?".

"That's another issue. On the other hand, it could help you get this over forever".

I sighed. "I'll get into contact with Kristina".

"You could send her an e-mail".

"No, Sofia, wait", I exclaimed. "Are there any tickets left for the show?".

"Yes, there are a few".

"Marvellous, I'll join you".

Thus, I would have the opportunity to find out myself whether she indeed was a good actress.

In the evening, I also went to the theatre, after I paid a visit to my sister. When I watched the show, my jaw was left wide open. Kristina was truly a talented actress, even though she had a more everyday acting and not a lyrical one. I was usually hiring actors who had something more dramatic, a Shakespeare-resembling style, a style probably coming from another era. However, my book featured a character, who suited Kristina: Daisy. After the show, I went to Kristina's dressing room, where I found a guard.

"Excuse me", I started. "I'd like to talk to Kristina".

"I'm terribly sorry, my lady. Mrs Jenssen can't accept any visit from fans".

"But she had contacted me a few days ago and she knows who I am".

"Your name?".

"Ingrid Sorensen", I said.

"Come in, Ingrid!", a voice was heard from the dressing room.

I walked in and saw Kristina. "Good evening", I said shyly.

"Welcome, my dear Poet!", she exclaimed.

I thought: Pleaaase. Don't you ever call me Poet again! Then she hugged me and I was really astonished, as I wasn't used to being hugged, let alone by strangers. After congratulating each other about our own successes, we moved to the core. We talked about turning my book into a play, something which needed a lot of time. This was clearly something I, myself, would deal with, as I was the one who had always been doing anything related to compositions. Thus, until my departure to the Caucasus, I had the hell of a work to do, as the play would eventually be staged in 2023.

42. PLEASE, YOU ARE NOT WELCOME IN MY HOUSE

I have noticed that the autumn, far from the fact that it has been my favourite season, is this period, when I have been always met with very positive changes. This doesn't mean anything, anyway, and I don't even believe there's a divine conspiracy towards me. I don't think that the universe actually cares about what I've been doing. However, in the past, it was September when major changes would happen. Also, don't forget that I decided to move to Ireland some autumn night and, of course, when I went through that major crisis concerning my band, a few years ago, I eventually changed my mind in the autumn and decided to start things anew.

So, in September 2022, my mental health was greatly improved. Then, I was already feeling ready to start working again. I had decided that in 2023 I would go to Ireland just for a holiday, but I would never live there again. Since that time, Kirkenes would be my home. And, of course, I had to move to a new house, because it was impossible for a 26-year-old girl to live opposite her parents. In fact, the latter had to happen immediately. My parents had this old-school actors attitude, in the sense that they were residing in the village for their whole life, but they also had to be easy-to-talk-to guys. There was a freeway entrance in their house and their door was always open, so people would constantly come and go. Until that time, I used to be like that too and I used to let people, especially locals, come to my place, thus my own door was open too. Even on our own website, there was my phone number as well as my home address! Lately, though, I would sometimes be annoyed by people's constant visits, because I needed peace and privacy. I don't have any problem, if people come to my place, however, please, give me a call beforehand and inform me about your visit. Don't appear suddenly in my backyard, calling me, because then I have to give up my work in the garden or writing. Thank you! The girls, of course, were an exception, because I knew they would be here every evening.

As for those, who wondered about the reasons why I stopped being so approachable to people, there was a specific reason. After the lawsuit, everybody in the village had learnt about what had happened, thus the number of people, who were first visiting me, had suddenly become ten times larger and they all had a single aim: to become informed in more details about an issue, which, as I have mentioned before, exploded, exactly because a law issue cannot be solved through talking. And in the end, I was to blame for! The lawsuit issue had, thus, become a federal case and locals couldn't (and didn't want) to believe that their girl was in such big trouble, so they wouldn't stay out of my face. I wanted everybody to stop dealing with that issue, because, for my part, it cost me a lot; not only in terms of time but also in my mental health too. For a whole year, I was on and off to hospitals, because I couldn't realise why all this was happening. I was feeling as if I was harshly punched in my nose and hearing people asking me about this issue was reopening my wound. And this wound didn't only have to do with the fact that I was forced to sue my, once, best friend, but also with the fact that people were pointing their finger at me, saying it's your own fault as if this was something I had created alone. I have to say again that the lawsuit idea was not mine and if we examine this in-depth, the rest of the guys were pressuring me to decide on things I didn't want to, only because otherwise we would be totally destroyed. Thus, asking a deeply hurt person about what happened one year ago, is nothing but a nerve-hacking war. And the worst nerve-hacking war was the fact that I was asked, whether I had regretted the fact that I also formed a lawsuit, accusing those unspeakable people about even worse things and demanding my money back.

No! I hadn't regretted it at all. Not at all! As one makes their bed, so they must lie on it. And even though, I don't believe in any divine justice, I am deeply sure that vagabonds, in the end, bite the dust and a victim will get justice. For years, I used to be the victim, as I was abused verbally so harshly by our beloved singer plus she also tried to lure me into following illegal means, which is one of the reasons why I was feeling so bad about myself. After that, it took a whole year until I could eventually reach out of my house and it's not only my mental health to blame for it. Even if I were healthy, I couldn't meet anyone, because everybody, who would meet me, would swear on me, just like the messages I received after the incident. Consequently, I had to find justice somehow, to get my own back. I had to fight the fire, lighting a larger fire. The sadist wasn't me, as many people said, but the ones who started the fight. Yes, Lydia and I were constantly in each other's throats, but people can't really know what has caused all this. People weren't present and can't be aware of personal details, which of course, back then, I didn't want to talk about, exactly because it was nobody's business to know what problems I had with Lydia and Lars. So, you are not allowed to ask me if I have reconsidered the fact that I replied by a lawsuit and public accusations, since she lit a fire first, as she herself stole a million and a half euros.

Except for what was happening, one more incident made me become forced to shut my door. At the beginning of September, Ingmar called me and asked me for a favour: 

"I need to go on a tour with Raglan Hundred in three months. I can't take Anna with me".

"Don't worry", I replied. "We can stay together at my place".

"Can you take her to Kirkenes?".

"Of course, although....I'm considering moving to a larger house soon".

"Are you leaving Kirkenes?", he asked.

"Not even kidding!", I exclaimed. "It's only that, in fact, I am living in a house, which my parents have offered to me and..."

"I understand", he said giggling. "You want to move to your own place".

"Exactly. And I'm afraid that Anna will have a hard time during the moving".

"I don't think so", he said. "She'll help you too".

What kind of help could a six-year-old child provide to a move? Furthermore, I had a lot of work to do, as my house wasn't built yet. I was glad that I would spend three months alone with Anna. However, how should I treat her? As long as Ingmar and I were a couple and Anna his daughter...I had to treat her as if she were my own daughter too, and not just a child I was taking care of, like a babysitter. Could I really do this?

A few days later, Ingmar came home with Anna. My parents hadn't known him at all, thus it was then when they met for the first time. It goes without saying that I didn't go to my parents' house along with Ingmar and Anna, because it was always full of people and who knows what they would start saying afterwards. I didn't have any problem with the fact that Ingmar had a child, however, this issue was a great taboo in a village. Locals had known me since I was born, and if they leant about Anna, they would chase me around from dawn to dusk. This was an extra reason, after the lawsuit, why people should mess around with me! Therefore, I told Ingmar we should be aware of our actions and be really discreet because in this village (as well as in every village) gossiping was a big issue.

Ingmar spent the night at my place "It's a shame you're leaving", he said. "This is a nice house".

"I'm moving to a better one. And the three of us will live there", I replied.

The rest of the days went smoothly. Indeed, Ingmar was right and Anna always wanted to help. People weren't coming to my backyard anymore until we went to the supermarket. At some point, Anna and I went to the supermarket, so I could buy some things for the child and one local from Bjørnevatn saw us. After greeting me, he said: "I didn't know you had a daughter". After this fact, I bought anything I needed as fast as could and Anna and I left the supermarket as quickly as possible. Since that time, the whole hullabaloo started. People used to visit my parents and seeing that my own door was slightly open too, they used to pop their head in and say: "Shall I enter?". I would politely send them off, telling them I was too busy and that I was waiting for Sofia and Jesikka. Other times, they would see me working in the garden and they would stand next to me. I wouldn't pay any attention to them, as if they weren't there at all, but they were so persistent to learn, that they would start making indiscreet questions, like: Did you get married? When did you have a child? or How old is the youngster? etc. In the end, I got so pissed that not only was my door completely shut, but I also had a short discussion with my parents. I privately told my mother: "I'm moving to a new house in a while. I don't give a damn if your door is open to everyone. I have my own privacy and you know that, since Lydia's lawsuit, everybody messes up with me all the time. Nobody will ever enter my house again unless I say it. Are we clear?" My mum, of course, had the same opinion and believed I was right, however, what could she do, when other people were so rude and indiscreet? Anyway, I think she talked to the locals because nobody ever bothered me again.

Soon, my new house started to become built. Its location was very important to me. I didn't want to keep on living in Bjørnevatn, the village where my parents are living. I wasn't bothered at all by that village. If anything, I had been living there, since I was twelve and I knew every local, at least, in the region where my parents' house was located. Of course, literally speaking, you can't know two and a half thousand people personally, that is Bjørnevatn's total population. So, I wanted to live in a place, literally in the middle of nowhere, but not away from any signs of life. That's why I returned to my roots. I moved to Jakobsnes village, which was 16 kilometres away from my parents' house and the centre. For those who don't know, Jakobsnes is the village in which Kongsgambukta bay is located, the place I was born in and lived during the first six years of my life. My memories, though faint, remained vivid and this place had always remained in my heart. Thus, I was always considering that, if I ever build my own house in Kirkenes, then I'll choose Jakobsnes, not only because of reviving my memory but also because it's a village of 270 people. Bjornevatn's population was ten times bigger!

If you noticed, I wrote about if I ever build my own house and not if I ever have my house built. And there's a special reason for that. Starting from the beginning, I have to say that the architect was an old classmate of mine, while the builder is a distant cousin. However, for everything that happens in my house, I always like to stick my nose. That's why, except for my cousin, I was also building with my bare hands, as weird as it might sound. It was rather hard and time-consuming work, however, after some time the house was ready. It was a three-storey house, more than 400 square metres and it wan't easy to find it at all. That's why I was rubbing my hands with pleasure. It wasn't located in the street, like my parents' house. I've also mentioned before that it was built within urban design, but outside of a community and it really looked like an enormous Norwegian summer cottage or hut (a hytte). It was located on the edge of an unknown dirt road and behind the house, you could see the forest as well as Tennvatnet lake. It was the best place to live. Nobody could bother me there.

At the end of September, I had moved, also taking Anna with me. Jesikka and Sofia were the ones who helped me with the transportation of all my stuff. I also needed to carry my piano and any paintings, trinkets and presents people had made me all these years, in my new house. Who knows where I would stuff all these things into?! However, as the house was large enough, I would probably have an extra room for all these. After the move, I told the girls that they could still visit me, whenever they want. However, things suddenly turned too official. I mean that they would never bump suddenly into my door, but they would always inform me prior to their visit, even though they were some of the very few people who knew my new address. They respected my wish to leave me alone with my daughter, but this seemed really strange to me. I didn't say anything, as I would also enjoy this kind of solidarity far from people's eyes and furthermore I didn't have so much time for this ol' carefreeness, as I was now taking care of a child. However, I felt that all of us had suddenly grown older and it was high time we made our own families. Whatsoever, I was 26 years old and the girls were already 30!!!

On the other hand, when I moved to my new house, I became much more active, as far as handwork is concerned. While before, I used to spend hours and hours before the PlayStation or writing books and songs, now I had started to make things with my hands. Probably, building my house was motivational for me so I wouldn't be resting on my laurels. The girls were visiting me and....we were living as if we were teenage girls!! We were cooking all the time and we were eating, so that we were completely full and after some point, we all realised we had put some weight on. My weakness was spaghetti with tomato sauce as well as Carelian pies. Indeed, only the Finns who lived in the village could make delicious pies and it seemed really strange to them that I, though a Norwegian, knew how to make these. Moreover, the girls and I liked making weird hairstyles to each other or wearing such bizarre eye makeup, as if it were Halloween. But we didn't care. Madness was in our blood and we wanted to see the rainbow after the storm that had come upon all of us during the previous year.

Also, the girls really loved Anna. Back then, the little kid loved drawing and doing anything related to design. Most little children love drawing because it enhances their imagination and of course it helps them express their inner world, as they cannot achieve that through writing yet. However, since a very young age, Anna had a special talent for drawing, which her father hadn't noticed until then. But when Jesikka did, she brought her a painting book, in which she had to put the correct colours, as well as a jigsaw consisting of a thousand pieces. Anna was really excited about Jesikka's presents. We agreed together that she wouldn't be drawing more than one picture a day so that her book would last long and wouldn't finish immediately. We placed the puzzle on the great carpet in the living room and the youngster was making it step by step. Every time I saw her sitting there, my heart was full of joy.

During the time, when Ingmar was on the road, Anna and I created a strong bond with each other. I actually remember one morning, when I woke up at 11 o'clock in the morning and still with my pyjamas on, I walked to the kitchen, only to find Anna drinking milk, eating cereals. 

"Good morning, youngster", I said. "I see that you made breakfast by yourself".

"Yeah", she told me. "These corn flakes are delicious. Dad used to buy the same in Lakselv".

I smiled. "Do you miss life in Lakselv?".

"Not at all! I'm so happy that daddy found me a new mum".

I froze up. Was the new mum....me??

"Anna, what are you talking about? No single woman can ever be your real mum".

"She's not my mum", she said and I saw a bizzare strictness for a child in her eyes. "She's dead".

"Yes, but this doesn't mean that she didn't give birth to you. Your real mum is her".

"Ingrid, I don't remember her. And she didn't love me".

"Oh, come on. This is ridiculous. Every mum loves her child, that's why I'm sure that she also...."

"She didn't love me! I know!", she yelled. "She killed herself!".

I sprang up. "W-who said this to...to....you?", I stuttered. "That....that....she killed herself?".

"Grandma", she said. "Mum's mum".

Christ, what kind of people do exist in this world? How could one put in a child's head that their mother killed herself? You can't tell such a thing to a child, even if it's true. Why make a child hate their mother?

"If she loved me, she wouldn't have killed herself", she added.

I didn't reply, because I was so shocked by what I heard. But then she went on: "Ingrid, I want a new mum. Don't ever break up with dad". Then the child started sobbing.

"Hey, hey, come here", I said and held her tight in my arms. "Don't cry. I love dad, as I love you too. You don't need to be upset, alright? The three of us will live happily, because we are a family".

She sniffed her nose: "Do you really love dad?".

Did I really love Ingmar??? Since I saw this man in the hospital for the first time, that afternoon, my heart started beating like an orchestra drum. I adored this man. To a great extent, he saved my mental health, because he made me smile after years. Years had passed until I stopped having these shitty, dark feelings and he made me break the stalemate. For him, there was no dead end, but everything was a decision, a goal, a wave, in a PlayStation video game, as he has always told me all these years, which you had to achieve, in order to move to the next level. If you set a goal, you can achieve it only by trying. Nothing is difficult, if you are decisive to make your dream come true. Such a person is Ingmar. Such a person, that if you ever fail, he goes Never mind, baby, we'll try again, meaning that he would try along with you. He never let me work on something hard by myself. He was always next to me, either encouraging me or working along with me. That's why, when he learnt that I had built the house all alone along with the builders, he was so upset for not being next to me and help. Of course, I couldn't tell Anna all my feelings about her father. However, I managed to reply: "I'll be loving your dad, until I close my eyes. And you shall know that you have the best dad in the world".

"Mum didn't love him", he said.

I sighed. "I don't care, my love. I do", I said. What kind of pricks could fill the child's heart with such hatred about her mother? I believe that her mother was an unfortunate girl, who reached a dead end due to her depression. You can't blame a dead person --to start with, it's immoral because a dead person can't defend themselves--, let alone a girl, who reached a point in killing herself. I had also gone through that phase. I knew what it meant for you every time to be wishing you are dead soon while lying on the floor, counting the minutes when you will eventually stop breathing and your heart will stop beating. So for me, there was no jealousy issue towards Ingmar's ex-wife. And truth be told, I didn't even know this girl, so I cannot judge her at all. But, if grandma accused her daughter to the child, then I believe that Anna's mum had a really disrupted relationship with her mother and who knows if her depression and in the end her suicide had to do with this relationship. But anyway, to cut the story short, I'd like my children to grow up in a carefree, almost innocent, environment, exactly as I did. That is, I wouldn't like to lie to them about the facts, but not scare them either, by saying exaggerations and monstrous fables. Anyway, you must pay attention to what you say to a child, according to their age. I wouldn't like my children to grow up, living in a nightmare, full of scars, which they will not overcome by psychotherapy either. That's why I, and of course Ingmar, protected Anna from such toxic people, providing her with affection and care. And in such a way, Anna became my daughter.   

Furthermore, since I moved to Jakobsnes, I started feeling completely free. And this is related to the fact that nobody knew where I was living, nor could they ever watch me. I could do literally anything I wanted, without caring about other people's comments. All this time, I was trying to find my true self, I was trying to be carefree, but at the same time an active person. So, one day Anna and I would spend time together sitting on the carpet, wearing our pyjamas all day long, building her jigsaw puzzle and telling stories. The other day, though, we would be out in the garden or we would be building some furniture for our new house. Thus, I had started putting my life into order, in contrast to the chaos I was living in back in Ireland. And this is something I greatly owe to the advice as well as the playful games about work-life balance that Ingmar and I had invented together.

41. TRIPPING WITHOUT DRUGS

 

Days were going by and I was living my love life with Ingmar. And for the first time, after eleven long years, I could say that, at last, I was satisfied with a relationship. I was feeling that this relationship was healthy and nobody pretends that everything is alright, only to keep it going. There was real love and honesty between us. The only relationship, in which I was feeling fine, was the one I had with Josh, eleven years before. Since Josh, not only was I changing boyfriends, as if they were clothes, but I was also getting involved in affairs, only because I didn't want to be lonely. Thus, I was feeling that someone was by my side, however, in the end, all this was completely fake. I was once again lonely. It is just like the scripts for the plays that I write, where I imagine a completely fake reality. I have known very well how to do this since I was nine years old. Exactly because I didn't have any friends, back then, I used to make stories with people all around me.

Of course, now I did have friends and moreover, I had lately started to be in girl groups, something that I would never do before. Dina, Jesikka and Sofia were constantly at my place, since 2021 when I returned to Norway. Normally, Eva was also in our company, before she killed herself. However, even though I would be close to people all the time, I would once again find communication through scripts. What I mean to say is, that you shouldn't imagine that I would only sit down and write scripts for plays, just like I was doing back then in Harvest. In Harvest, I would only find peace and this was the best thing for me. Scripts were coming to my head when I would escape from the real world. And that was the reason, why I liked going out for a walk by myself, listening to (usually instrumental/orchestral) music and even better, playing video games for endless hours. However, this was something I hadn't instantly realised about myself. Some afternoon, during June 2022, the girls had paid me a visit. I was playing video games while thinking of scenes for supposed theatrical plays. Then, I heard Jesikka saying in a loud voice: "Ingrid!"

I sprang up from the sofa: "You scared me to death and I almost missed", I complained.

"I had no other choice", she replied. "I already called you three times and your mind was elsewhere. Probably you were fully immersed in the game".

I laughed. "It's not what you're thinking. I was thinking about other stuff".

"And where was your mind was travelling this time?".

"There where it always does", I replied. "I was thinking scenarios for some supposed play".

Jesikka burst out in laughter: "Ingrid, I admire this ability of yours".

"Which ability?", I asked.

"You know that many people struggle to escape from reality because their life is so shit, that they want to disappear at least for a few hours".

Oh, this reminds me of something!

"That's why they start getting involved with excessive alcohol or gambling", I said, trying to defend myself, in the sense that I had nothing to do with something like that.

"Or drugs".

"Of course", I exclaimed. "They trip to death, in order that they can live in a more reassuring reality".

"This is what you also do", she told me.

Uh-oh! Did she know anything about the pills? I looked at her frightened.

"Without drugs, though. You are tripping, without using drugs. This is who you are; a tripper! And this is something so marvellous. So many people are trying to escape from reality and they can't achieve this nor by substance usage and you....are able to do this, whenever you like it, only because at any time given you can open a door in your mind".

"You're right, Jesikka", I said in a sly smile.

I was indeed tripping, without drugs. However, this wasn't so marvellous and amazing, as Jesikka would describe it. Jesikka had no idea about how I was feeling. I was feeling that my thoughts were stealing my life and that I was trapped in my own head. And exactly for the reason why I couldn't say out loud anything I was thinking about, I pretended to play my thoughts somewhere. I felt that this had to stop somehow, otherwise I would turn into a paranoiac. And even though, during later months, my situation was improving and I was feeling freer, I wasn't able to solve that issue. I had truly started to accept Ingrid. To accept my flaws and failures. However, I was living two lives: One of the real world and the other one of my books and plays. And this didn't let me move on for two reasons.

First of all, when I would be met up with some difficulty, I would hit a wall and I would find a shelter there. Then, I was thinking that I will just let go of whatever has happened, simply writing down my thoughts, that is writing dialogues in the scripts of my plays, about how I could have dealt with the situation. However, I wouldn't ever express out loud anything I wanted to say. It would be really good for my mental health if I could talk about anything that troubles me, just like I was doing in Escape Room and not keeping my thoughts and feelings to myself. I was indeed able to do this in Escape Room and it went quite wonderful, however in a real situation, I would never be able to talk to people in front of their face. And this is an issue, I've referred to in all previous chapters. Remember that I've never talked to anyone to their face, nor did I swear on them. And if I did, I would afterwards feel like a fish out of water.

The other thing is that, by only writing my wishes, I was nothing but static. I would never achieve anything, as there was no reason to do that. And probably that was the reason why I felt I had no balance anymore. Exactly because I would never make my dreams come true. I knew that those dialogues made me get out everything I was feeling inside, so after that, I was feeling completely empty. That's why I had started reconsidering what we were told in University about the relationship between the author and their heroes. In my own case, the heroine was me. One can tell I was writing my own diary or my own autobiography. And this story I've been writing now has no big difference from my previous works. You could say that its only difference is the fact that I use the real names of the characters.

                                                              ****************************

Our seventh album was met with such a failure, that there was no point in promoting it with a tour. Whatsoever, we weren't ready to go on the road yet, due to my mental health. I had even stopped playing in the theatre. Also, in June, Scott was the next member, who announced their departure from the band. Before we got the chance, though, to grouse about the second loss after Dina, Bryan told us he had a friend, who was playing uilleann pipes, tin whistles and flute. She was also playing synthesizers and was singing.

"Bear her in mind for the time we'll have to go to the studio", I said. If this girl agreed to join the band, she would solve our problem. But what would happen with Uaithnia? Who was going to play the pipes? And I didn't either want to let an, then, unknown girl join such a personal project of mine.

Furthermore, that June, Dina released her first solo record, which I instantly bought. The language was Norwegian and the music completely acoustic. Yes, I knew that style. I can remember Dina's compositions in the band. Afterwards, a small tour followed in Norway. What's more, I went to Dina's show in Fjellhallen, Kirkenes gym. It was the first time, after a whole year, that I sneaked out of my house, in order to attend a public event. I also encountered many people from Bjørnevatn, my home village, where I was living, however, I was so embarrassed to meet them after a whole year. Anyway, Dina performed with Marko and was also playing acoustic guitar. I felt really emotional when she said on stage: "A big hand for my friend, Ingrid, who is in the audience tonight" and even more emotional, when she performed Riders of Night as well as Once Upon a Time in Autumn in the end. It truly felt completely different to be in the audience and see your old singer do her own compositions, let alone songs that you yourself had written while being in deep emotional unrest.

While listening to those songs, I started to realise that I had gradually distanced myself from such situations. I had started to get past those feelings and when looking myself in the mirror, I had started to see Ingrid's face and not what I would describe in Riders of Night, Once Upon a Time in Autumn and similar depressing songs. After Dina's show, the three of us went out for dinner. While being at the restaurant, Dina told me: "I have two good news. Well, we have". She looked at Marko and giggled. Then, I thought that they are getting married and Dina is pregnant, but I didn't dare to ask anything, because in case neither of the two was happening, my question would be really uncomfortable for the couple.

"Oh, tell me", I answered.

Dina showed me her left hand. "We are getting married!".

"Really?", I said in enthusiasm. "When?".

"In two weeks".

"So quickly?", I asked.

"Yes, because we're moving to another place".

"Where to?", I exclaimed.

"That's the second news".

"What do you mean?".

She smiled and whispered: "Ingrid, I was accepted in Broadway".

I almost choked on my food and screamed: "Wow! Really?".

"Yes! I'm so excited!!".

"Me too!", I exclaimed. "So, you're moving to New York".

"In a month we will have moved there".

"Awesome!", I said. But...if they were moving to the States, when would I ever see Dina again? As if she had read my thoughts, she hugged me and said: "I'll miss you".

"I'll miss you too. But....we'll be in contact, right?".

"All the time! And I promise. I will always have time for you".

I felt so emotional, that I wanted to cry, so I also hugged her tight. I thought, Say it now. It's your chance. Like a miracle, I burst out of my mouth these words: "Dina, you are my best friend. Nobody has ever supported me the way you did".

She smiled. "You know that I will always stand by you. And I'm so glad to see you better and your health improving. I know that now I can leave, being aware that things are turning for the best".

Dina and Marko got married on the 15th of June, 2022 and the wedding took place at the town hall of South Varanger, in Kirkenes. Five days later they set off to New York. In early July 2022, our last meeting with Escape Room took place. Hanna could say that we were ready to move on with our lives and find ourselves. Now, all of us were away from that phase, in which we were, when we had first joined the group, as we wanted to kill ourselves back then. However, this summer, we had to shoot a video, in which we would talk about ourselves. In this, we would talk about anything we were saying in Escape Room. Our deadline was until September. I didn't want to be the first to make the video, that's why I was expecting to see the video of another girl, first.

Natali, the girl, who had lost her daughter, was the first to make a video. I watched it in segments, as I couldn't stand watching it from the beginning to its end in a single day. She started showing her family and how she would spend time with them. Then, her family spoke about Natali. In the second part, Natali was talking about the way she grew up. I watched the third part with Jesikka. And the sole reason was that Jesikka happened to be passing in front of the screen, while I was watching the video, so she sat next to me. This was the most important part, as Natali was talking about the reasons why she joined Escape Room. She was talking about her negative feelings, her daughter, her self-esteem etc.

"Very upseting video", Jesikka said.

"All girls have to do something like that", I answered.

"What about you?".

"I see no other choice".

Until mid-August, I had watched the videos of two more girls. The other three weren't made yet: mine one, Anette's and Kirsten's. Ultimately, on the 10th of August, I also decided to shoot my video, telling the whole truth. Even though I talked about my parents, mentioning that I was so inspired by the fact that they were both excellent actors, I refused to show my family on camera, in contrast with what the other girls did. My family was a completely personal issue and I had to set a boundary there for everybody. However, I showed my whole lifestyle, about the way I was composing music or writing stories. I showed myself playing the piano, working in the garden, playing video games and in general, everything that was part of my daily routine. Later on, I talked about all my problems and the fact that my self-esteem and my perfectionism had made me try to commit suicide. And in the end, I referred to a subject, which I had never talked about before in sessions and I talked about it for the first time on the video. I'm referring to the fact that I was tripping without drugs, as Jesikka would say. And after the latter confession, the video would come to an end.

In September 2022, when the videos of the other girls were shot too, I took mine and uploaded it on YouTube. Thus, I knew that there was nothing I could hide from people anymore and that I was only telling the truth

40. STORMS IN THE DARKNESS

The first thing I did, when I woke up the next morning, was to pick up the phone and dial the number +4781533300. I heard a woman's voice in the other line, saying:

"Suicide hotline. How can I help you?".

"Good morning", I said quietly. "My name is Ingrid....and last night I tried to stab myself to death".

"Please, talk to me with more details".

I talked to her about the whole situation, starting from my two suicide attempts, Alta's mental hospital, Lyrica pills prescription, the club, in which I was playing psychedelic music, my friend who was taking LSD drugs, the psychedelic songs, that I was composing, Eva's suicide and the fact that I wanted to throw my story into the fire, so I wouldn't have to kill myself.

"Which psychiatrist prescribed Lyrica pills to you?", the woman asked.

"Hanna Arendal", I answered.

"Then, I suggest you talk to Mrs Arendal at first or call Alta's clinic again. And if you need any more help, you can call back again here".

Oof! I couldn't take more hospitals. I wanted to be at home. I phoned Hanna and asked her to visit me in the afternoon at my own place in Kirkenes. She asked me a lot of stuff about what made me want to harm myself again. I told her I wanted to get rid of my story and that I tried to burn it, but in the end, I didn't have the nerve to do it. Finally, for the first time I was able to talk about the story itself, why I was writing it and for which reasons I was feeling it was killing me.

"You are this author, aren't you?", Hanna asked.

I shook my head. "I am only an author. An author can never be the hero as well. This is something we've been taught at University....".

"We are not having a Literature discussion", she said. "I'm talking to you in terms of psychotherapy. What's wrong with your books? Why do your heroines die in all of them?".

I sighed and didn't talk for a while. "Difficult question, isn't it?", Hanna asked.

"Not that....", I stuttered. "It's only...Yes, all of my heroines depict....not me, personally....but, in a way, what I've been doing. The fact that I'm an artist, for example. After a while, I feel that what I'm writing is really dull, really boring. All I mean to say is....", I stopped.

Hanna looked at me: "What? Don't you like what you're writing?"

I laughed nervously: "Not at all. I hate my books and that's why I hate my heroines. Maybe....I have to say that....my heroines in a way show my own self....which I hate", I said quietly.

"You do, Ingrid. Just say it. It's the truth".

"Alright", I said decisively. "I hate myself and I depict myself in my books through my heroines, whom I kill in the stories".

"Because you want to harm your own self. And you can't do this in reality".

"Exactly", I said.

"And now the book you're writing shows exactly what you've been doing all these years. An author who's killing her heroines. Why did you want to burn your book?".

"It would be a redemption to me. Salvation of my soul".

"In other words, a catharsis".

"Exactly", I exclaimed. "A catharsis".

"And how exactly was it going to be a catharsis for you?".

"I would kill the Poet....inside me".

Hanna looked at me in a frown: "The Poet?".

"Her real name is Thaleia, however, it is referred only once at the beginning of the book. For the rest of the book I only call her author or Poet. She's my own Poet".

"And how is this related to you?".

I laughed. "We've been talking about this all the time, Hanna. These were the reasons why I wanted to kill myself. I have no name, no self, no face. I'm nothing but a shadow of my own self. Nobody calls me Ingrid anymore. Everybody calls me composer, Poet, pianist....shall I go on? The list goes on, anyway".

Hanna didn't say anything.

"My own self doesn't even recognise me in the mirror".

"Ingrid, you don't need to burn your book. Publish it and you'll overcome the....syndrome of the Poet"

"Oh, really?", I said in a frozen tone. "I do the same thing with every book. And every time things get even worse".

Hanna sighed. "Then kill your heroine in the book. Kill the author herself".

"What?", I exclaimed.

"Make her kill herself. All you wanted to do. Your author will kill herself and you'll live. Then publish your book".

I looked at her and said: "Is that a catharsis?".

"You've got nothing to lose. Whatsoever....it's a quite subversive ending to a novel. People expect to read about the death of a person and in the end, it's another person the one who dies".

Then, we were sitting by the fireplace, drinking coffee and she said: "Shall I listen to your songs?"

"They're not completed, yet", I said.

"I don't care", she replied. "I would just like to listen to them".

I played a few demos to her and she replied: "How did you get such an inspiration?".

I was looking away and said: "I increased the dose of Lyrica pills".

"What?!", she exclaimed. "Ingrid! These are drugs and cause hallucinations. You're not allowed to take more than three every day. Why didn't you inform me? Do you want to see me behind bars or see yourself in a psychiatric hold again?".

"I'm sorry", I said.

"How many of them are you taking every day?", she asked.

I didn't answer.

"How many of them are you taking every day?", she yelled.

"Six, ok?", I said.

"For goodness sake! Anyway. Try to cut it gradually, ok? But not sharply. I'd like you to end up taking half of a Xanax pill every day. Alright?".

"Alright", I replied.

Weeks went by and I could gradually start cutting down pills. During mid-March, Hanna made me join a psychotherapy group along with six other girls. The group's name was Escape Room (the name was obviously inspired by the live puzzle-solving games), as, through it, we were trying to escape from everything that was torturing us, by talking our problems through. One of these girls gave birth to a dead baby, while her daughter killed herself at the age of 16. I felt really sorry about her and thought that these were much more serious problems than the ones that I had. Maybe then, I should have started considering other people's pain and suffering and not only caring about myself and my feelings.

My 15 psychedelic songs were now complete, however, I didn't know what to do with them. And I didn't either want to make a solo album. So, I called Vivian and as soon as she heard my voice, she said: "Ingrid! You sound better!".

"Yes", I replied. "I feel much better. I've joined a psychotherapy group along with some other girls".

"And does that help?", she asked.

"Of course, it does! For the first time ever I am able to talk about my feelings. I mean, talk....not just write countless pages".

"Are you joining.....the Celtic festival?", Vivian asked.

"No", I said in a chilling tone. "Ireland belongs to the past for me. Ireland caused such an imbalance to me. It's time I changed my lifestyle. And as far as Orchidea's Tales is concerned, I can keep it going in Norway".

"Yes, I understand", she said. "And how's music going?".

"That's the reason why I called you. I have composed fifteen short pieces of experimental music. I don't know what to do with them. I don't want to release a solo album, nor can we release them as a band".

"Can't this be our seventh album?".

"I have completed everything. You won't even be playing music at all".

"Is everything electronic music, played by synthesizers?".

"Yep", I said. "I find it to be completely unfair to you if you're just there doing nothing".

"Look. If the other members are ok with that, record it yourself and we can release the album under Alexandria's name".

When I talked to the other guys, they told me there was no issue with this at all. So, I sent the demos to them, in order to hear their opinion as well. They told me that truly what I had composed was very extraordinary and there was nothing to lose by releasing the album. For two long weeks, I was recording the songs on my synthesizer. I didn't go to the studio and I didn't work with the other members nor anybody else. I mixed and mastered the album myself at home, as long as I was mostly recording with Ableton. When I completed everything, I sent the album to the band along with the cover and the name. I called it Storms in the Darkness and the cover was Johanna's sketch, which depicted this huge crystal. I avoided answering any question related to the album's cover, only saying that I was too stoned to remember.

Storms in the Darkness was released on the 2nd of April, 2022....and it was a total failure. It didn't even enter the charts and most magazines, including Prog, described it as Alexandria's worst album. It was described as an album, without coherence, without sense, but just random sounds and nothing but noise. And this is what it was, indeed. I never believed it was something of quality. I just needed it that moment. And this result proves what I have always been saying about the way, in which I compose music. That is, I cannot write anything out of context. For example, I can't play a random melody and if it sounds good to my ears, then I record it. That's why, I'm not one of these musicians, who listen to a melody, while dreaming, and wake up in the middle of the night, rushing on the piano, in order not to forget the melody. I'm not creating a collage of sounds. I was an author first and then I became a musician. Thus, the way, in which I write music, is the same way in which I write books. If I work in a different way, the result will be a failure, just like in the case of Storms in the Darkness.

Furthermore, I don't know if this had to do with Escape Room and the fact that Hanna was slightly teaching me how to accept myself, as I was, but the failure of our seventh album didn't get me down at all. Under other conditions, I would feel completely useless and that I couldn't even write an album. But now I thought that it didn't really matter if I failed. Maybe we shouldn't be so strict with ourselves and do everything perfect. Maybe good enough is also ok. And of course, maybe we should be able to forgive ourselves and not blame ourselves for everything. Putting the blame on yourself doesn't help you move on and become a better person. On the contrary, it makes you have a completely bad picture of yourself and that's why you end up with very bad self-esteem. Maybe, in the end...if we accept our failures, we learn to recognise our mistakes and not make them again. This way, we learn through our mistakes.

Even though I was met with a failure, I soon started to become very successful. And now I hoped I could be looking at myself in the mirror every morning and say I am Ingrid Sorensen. I wouldn't be this shadow anymore, one of the faceless riders, who wander around at night lost, without a name, as I was saying in Riders of Night. I would have an identity.

I would, anyway, find my identity, when I wouldn't be called the Poet or the girl in the black 'n' whites anymore. The following days, I rushed on solving that issue. I started writing my book again, giving the following ending to it: [...]The author moves on writing the scene, in which her sister kills herself [...] However, she changes her mind [...] That night, she wakes up and with a knife in her hand, she pulls it horizontally in her throat [...] And the next morning, people in the street were carrying this dead whore, Thaleia [...}. And the interest here is that in the whole book her name was referred to only twice: once at the beginning, where I was presenting her and here in the end. I had a reason for that because this way I wanted to show that she was faceless and her name would be recognised only after her suicide.

After completing my book, I called Johanna and told her: 

"I broke my promise".

"What does that mean?", she asked.

"It means that I killed my heroine", I said enthusiastically. "But I don't give a damn".

"And is this something to be glad about?", Johanna asked worryingly.

"Johanna, I feel completely free now. I had to do it. It helps me move away from this situation".

"If it does", she said, "then I'll be the first to read your book".

"And the first I'll send the book to, as soon as it becomes published", I said.

"Wonderful", she replied. "And what is its name?".

"I'm thinking of calling it Black Notebook. It will be out in a few days".

Indeed Black Notebook was published on the 20th of April, 2022. It was categorised as a psychological horror novel (quite logical) and was even a best seller. I was also invited to its presentation and talked about it. I talked about mental diseases and suicide, referring people with suicidal tendencies to help hotlines. However, I didn't analyse the meaning of the book at all and didn't refer to any reason why I kill the heroine so suddenly. But I had a wide smile on my face when reading people's analysis in forums about what is meant behind the author's death. If only they knew that nothing was meant at all.

In May I had started feeling much better and I thought there was still something I hadn't done. I called Vivian and begged her to tell me what Ingmar's address in Lakselv was. So, I bought the first book from The Witcher series and got in the car. The distance was 400 kilometres from my place and I reached a large house at seven o'clock in the afternoon. While standing outside the door, I could hear children's voices. Damn it, relatives had probably visited him tonight. However, I didn't hesitate and knocked on the door. Ingmar appeared, in a blue checkered shirt, which fitted perfectly with his eyes.

"Hi", I said shyly. "I hope I'm not disturbing".

"No, not at all. We were just playing a game with Anna".

"Anna?".

"Yes, my little daughter", he said.

The smile on my face faded away instantly. Daughter? So, was he....married? Well, could I expect anything different from a 38-year-old man?

"Annaaaa", Ingmar shouted. "Come and say hello to Ingrid".

Then, a blonde girl appeared, who had her father's blue eyes.

Later, Ingmar and I went out in the backyard, because he insisted on offering a drink to me, as long as I didn't want to spend the night there. Anna was left alone in her room playing.

"I didn't know you are married", I said.

"I was", he said, looking away.

"I understand. Very often, marriages don't have a good ending".

"My wife died".

"Oh!", I exclaimed. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea. Of what...if you will?".

"Suicide", he said sharply. That's why he would visit me at the hospital. Pure empathy. He knew what a suicide attempt meant.

"I'm so sorry", I said and touched his hand.

"It's ok. It happened four years ago. Anna is almost six and doesn't remember her mother at all. She has to get another mum and I should somehow build up my life again. If any woman accepts my daughter".

"Oooh, why shouldn't she? Anna is such a sweetie", I said.

"Do you believe this?", he told me.

"But of course! I adore children".

"Even though....she's a real devil".

"It's quite normal", I exclaimed. "She's six years old".

We remained silent for a while, drinking a glass of delicious wine. In the end, I pulled out the bag with the book. "I brought a present for you", I said.

"A book?", he asked.

"I hope you'll like it".

The suspense was drawn on his face, while he was struggling to open the bag. As soon as he saw what I had brought to him, his eyes flashed, as if he were a little child. "I've always wanted this book! I've been constantly playing these video games. Ingrid, I adore you!", he exclaimed.

I blushed. "Well...you know....I drove here from Kirkenes because I wanted to give this to you".

"Have you driven 400 kilometres from Kirkenes, only to come and give me this book?".

I felt the familiar pain in my stomach and my eyes got wet. "Actually...I'm here to thank you. For....everything. Because you were at the hospital, visiting an unfamiliar person to you. For your empathy. I have a moral obligation to you. What you did was so sweet",

"Ingrid...", he said and hugged me tightly. He didn't take his arms away from me. He was holding me tight long when at some point, we kissed.

39. THE KNIFE

 

After this view, we both got into my car. Sofia, who has always been the joker of the company, now had a frozen look on her face and was speechless. Until we got home, neither of us had said a single word. Sofia's blood was running so cold, that I could even hear her heartbeat. The only thing I could tell her was: "Please, inform her family". I finally saw that she pulled out her phone and sent a text message. We couldn't even talk.

We got in the house and the girls asked: "Where's Eva?". I didn't talk, but I only headed towards the rooms inside. "Ingrid", Jesikka shouted. I locked myself in my room and the girls knew that whenever I would lock myself inside, nobody could get me out. I didn't cry at all. My blood was running so cold, that I couldn't even react at all. I was sitting on my bed and I closed my eyes, hoping I could calm down. But the blade....the blade full of blood....it was constantly turning around my mind. It would never leave!

I don't know how much time had passed, but when I eventually walked out, I went to the kitchen. The girls were still there. They had bolted down many vodka bottles and they were blind drunk, but they weren't saying anything. They had fallen on the table in a real mess. I eventually bolted down anything that had remained and after getting wasted on drinking, I also passed out on the table. I was having freaking dreams during the whole night. I was dreaming I was swimming in the boundless ocean. Suddenly, huge waves were coming towards me, like tsunamis, about to drown me. I was smiling because they reminded me of Harbour Oil, the tide which was coming back every morning at 6 o'clock. Just like those days in my dreams, when I would hide under the waves and there's where everything would calm down. However, this time I couldn't hide at all. The waves were coming in such a forceful way, that they would throw me in the shore and then pull me back again in the sea. In the end, some wave came so forcefully and threw me so far, that I found myself in a room full of corpses and all around me I could see blades with blood. Blades were everywhere!

I woke up because someone shouted: "Ingrid!" The four of us sprang up all awake. It was my mum: "How drunk did you get?", she asked.

"Mum, it's not a time to joke around", I said.

My mum looked at us in a question. Then, Dina said seriously:

"Niki, our friend, Eva, killed herself last night. Your daughter and Sofia found her with her throat sliced".

My mum opened widely her eyes and then walked away in a rush. I looked at Dina angrily: "What do you want?", she said. "Do you expect me to be discreet after all?".

Half an hour later, I told the girls: "I need you to leave me alone".

Then, Dina turned to me and said: "Just don't go and kill yourself, ok?". I shook my head and told her: "If I do, I'll be the second one to leave the company".

I didn't have any reason not to be ironic. After this view, everything seemed funny to me. I'd never again in my life showed such cruelty to anybody, nor did I feel such hate towards life itself. I was at times disappointed or bitter indeed, but I would never feel hate. But now things had changed. Now, I wasn't pretending to have empty feelings anymore. Now I really couldn't feel anything, because I didn't know what to feel anymore.

Eva's funeral took place the next day. I didn't shed a single tear. Not because I didn't care for her or I didn't love her at all. I just couldn't feel anything but fear. And as far as I realised, terror was drawn in the face of the other girls too. I also felt rage towards Eva. Rage, because she killed herself. You might say that I also wanted to do the same thing during the previous months. And Christians consider it a sin not to forgive a dead person, because there is this so-called remission of sins. I, though, was an atheist and I would never forgive Eva. Because she was a hypocrite. She was the only one of us who never ever seemed to be upset and she turned everything into a joke. She was pretending to be fine, whereas she wasn't at all. And she ended up killing herself, exactly because she never told anyone what she was feeling, while she instead was everyone's psychotherapist.

After Eva's funeral, I relapsed and things had never got worse than that. I knew that pills made my mind numb, that's why I decided to increase the dose, without informing Hanna about it. I ended up taking three Lyrica per day, which in the beginning were only causing lucid dreams For about a whole month, I started composing psychedelic music constantly. Thus, I composed fifteen instrumental songs, containing nonsensical music. At some point, I called Johanna and told her: "Can you do an album cover for me?".

"Are you releasing an album with the band?", she asked.

"I don't know", I replied. "We might do. Well, listen up. Draw the ceiling of a cave, in which a brown rock is attached to it. And a huge sharp purple crystal should be hanging under this rock".

Johanna sighed: "What's this again?".

"Johanna, please, I don't want to discuss anything about it", I yelled.

"I'm sorry", she said calmly. "I didn't want to pressure you at all".

"It's only....my weird mind. Just make it for me".

During the following days, Johanna eventually sent me the cover. It was marvellous and indeed what I had exactly in my mind. I wrote at the back of the paper Storms in the Darkness. I was thinking about where I could hide the paper, but then I found it. I opened the notebook, where I was writing my book, the one with this psychopath writer, and I placed the paper between the cover and the first page. My story! I was wondering about my author, my Poet. How was she doing? I think it was high time I gave this book an ending, no matter if I was never going to publish it.

I had stopped writing when the author starts to hate her sister and decides to write a novel, in which her sister kills herself. I decided to get the story going like that, in a heavy heart, even though it was the harshest and most inhumane thing I could ever write. Whatsoever, I had increased the dose of the pills and as a result, I felt I had lost any sense of reality and everything seemed like a neverending dream. This was probably the evidence of the fact that excessive usage of sympatholytics turns you into a zombie. At least, I hadn't lost any of my creativity, even though I would get out a side of myself, which nobody had ever seen again.

A few days later, I reached the point, where the author's sister is about to commit suicide....of course, in the author's book. However, I stopped there. I couldn't do it. I couldn't write a book, in which an author also writes a book, in which her sister commits suicide. That couldn't happen! I started feeling depressed and considered taking another Lyrica pill. However, I regretted it. I didn't want to take another pill, nor write. I only wanted to die. I was the one who had to die, not my heroine's sister. She wasn't anything to blame for, whereas the fault for everything was mine. In the beginning, I thought I could just go and drown myself in the sea. Return in the place I was born in. Because, when we are close to death, we want to return to the place, where we are born. It makes us feel safe and secure. But then, I thought of Eva's suicide. I smiled, as I realised how effective this was, how painless it was, in contrast with trying to drown yourself. There was a much quicker death rather than drowning yourself or taking pills. You can only tuck a knife into your body and soon everything is over. Eva gave me such great ideas.

The time was 11 o'clock in the night when I grabbed the kitchen's huge knife. I lied on my bed with the knife on my right side and my story on my left side. The plan was that I would sleep only for a few hours and at 3 o'clock I would wake up and I would slice my throat on the floor of my house, just like Eva did. So, I fell asleep with a wide smile, being sure that soon I wouldn't be suffering anymore.

When I woke up, everything was in its right position. The knife on my right, the story on my left. I held the knife in my hands and walked on the cold floor. I went into the living room before the fireplace, where the fire was burning. I knelt there as if I was offered to the gods as a sacrifice. And then I stretched the hand, which was holding the huge knife and pulled it horizontally to my throat.

I sprang up!

I was still in bed!

So....this was a dream! And the knife was still on my left. This means....that I never pulled the knife and that this was nothing but a nightmare. No, no I couldn't do this. I had changed my mind, I couldn't harm myself. I had to ask for help. And this story! This story would kill me. This author wasn't me. The author had to die and not me. It was me the one who should live. I rose from the bed, this time holding the story in my hands. I went into the living room before the fireplace, where the fire was burning. I knelt there as if I was offered to the gods as a sacrifice. And then I stretched the hand, which was holding the story and prepared to throw the story into the fire. But, at the very last moment, I changed my mind.

38. MENTAL HEALTH HOSPITAL

ATTENTION PLEASE: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS NAMES ABOUT DRUGS AND MEDICINES AS WELL AS PASSAGES ABOUT THEIR CONSUMPTION.

"Hello, youngster", the man said.

I stared at him and cracked a smile. "Hello, Ingrid", Vivian said silently.

"How did you know?", I said in terror.

"Dina informed me". She sat next to me and hugged me.

"I'm so sorry", I whispered. "You hate me, right?".

"What?", Vivian exclaimed. "How could I hate you about your feelings?".

"They inserted this....disgusting tube in my body", I said bitterly. "But now I'm clean".

"Ingrid, you have really frightened us. If you had talked to us about anything that has happened, we would be close to you".

I sighed and sat on the bed.

"I'd like to introduce you to Ingmar. He lives in a town towards Alta. Its name means salmon river. Oh, what's its name? Something like Len....Las....".

"Lakselv", Ingmar replied.

I knew where Lakselv was. Two hours away from Alta. I looked at him right in the eyes. They had a deep blue colour, which reminded me of my brother's, Daniel's, eyes.

"Have we met before?", I asked.

"I am Ingmar, Raglan Hundred's keyboardist".

I knew him! Of course, I knew this band. When we had stayed at Bryan's house, I'd been at a gig of theirs at the Blakey Ridge inn. I was highly impressed by the fact that their voices and their sound reminded me of us when we formed the band. There was this campfire atmosphere in the way they would mix their voices. However, in contrast with us, there was harmony. On the other hand, in our first album, we didn't get the correct sound in our voices, exactly because we didn't know how to sing. We were completely out-of-tune and uncoordinated when singing in unison. But then, we learnt from our mistakes and in our following albums, our voices became better and better. Raglan Hundred had the same style like us, but they weren't, of course, out-of-tune.

Raglan Hundred was the kind of band I had always been looking for. Even though I didn't know them in person, I was under the impression that they had been really carefree and they had strong bonds with each other, as if they were a family. Their music had nothing special, in the sense that there was nothing revolutionary in them, which had never appeared in the history of music again. But, then again, I was drawn towards that. I liked simple music, without complex riffs. I also liked the fact that they would fund their albums themselves and they had signed no contract, just like us.

I was gazing at Ingmar, smiling. But what I was feeling was no admiration towards a celebrity, just like in Pink Floyd's concert, when I was young. I was feeling as if I had known this band for my whole life. Because I was thinking that I was exactly like them. I wanted to be connected with others through music because this was the only way for me to communicate with people around me.

"I was in a live show of yours last year", I said.

"And why didn't you talk to us afterwards? Vivian and Bryan have been our long-term friends", Ingmar replied.

I blushed in embarrassment.

"You should talk to them", Vivian said. "Ingmar is the most easy-going person in the world".

"I see", I said with widely-opened eyes.

I was so embarrassed that I was introduced to a person, like Ingmar, in such an awful state. If I ever met Raglan Hundred normally, I'd like it to happen under completely different circumstances. In general, I don't like meeting celebrities, nor am I one of these people who crave meeting their idols. I would never like to meet my idol in real life. To start with, I believe that we have a completely different view about artists in our head. The fact that an artist might create an excellent work doesn't mean they are nice people. They might be the greatest pricks ever, just like Dali. Furthermore, I believe there's no point in meeting my idol because it's completely vain. I take great heed in human relations and meeting someone only to tell them how much I admire them, is completely meaningless, as long as we'll never become friends. On the other hand, Raglan Hundred didn't seem to be people who had distinguished their music from their character. That's why I wanted to meet them and become friends with them.

I was taken away from the hospital room and transferred to Alta's mental health hospital. I begged the nurses to keep the medical confidentiality so that people wouldn't learn about what happened to Ingrid Sorensen. I also asked to be discharged from the hospital in November, if everything was getting well so that I could spend Johanna's birthday with her. I was really taken care of at the mental health hospital, so that I was able to talk, without feeling any pressure. My psychiatrist was a rather sweet woman, whose name was Hanna. She asked me about several things and we tried to examine together the reasons that led me to try to commit suicide. I realised that my self-esteem and my vanity led me to that point. That's why I had to behave like a normal person and not like a celebrity, who's forced to do everything perfectly and impeccably.

I stayed at the hospital for a month. All this time, I was visited by several friends and my family. Vivian was staying at Ingmar's place in Lakselv and they would usually visit me together. Sometimes, though, Ingmar would come alone. He was sitting next to me, telling me stories and tales, usually of a romantic topic, just like these ones that I used to write before I came down with depression. It seemed to me that this man had a big heart and this made me get emotional. He didn't even know me at all, but he would come to the hospital, only to see if I'm getting better. And I can't justify his behaviour, saying that he was being polite with me, so he would join Vivian because he would often visit me alone and try to make me smile. But I was really astonished when he said he was twelve years older than me. And why should I care anyway? As if I was going to marry him. Dina, Eva, Jesikka and Sofia would also come. They would bring me food and Eva was joking around, as usually. She lately used to spend a lot of time with me, because she knew I wasn't feeling well. She would make my day with her jokes and she was always happy. I have literally never seen Eva grousing or being upset, so you could never really know about anything that she was going through. Even Monica and Daniel with Savinna came from Finland because my parents informed them about me. But at nights, it was my parents and Johanna the ones who would stay with me.

I went back home in mid-November. Hanna had prescribed me heavy antidepressant pills, such as Xanax, Lexotanil and Lyrica. In the beginning, I didn't want to take these at all. The first reason was because after trying to kill myself, pills made me sick and I couldn't stand even see them. This was a traumatic incident for me and if forced to take these, I would have this bitter taste in my mouth again, just like the time when I had swallowed the content of these ten boxes. I was also afraid that my ability of creativity would be reduced, but Hanna persuaded me in changing my mind and take those pills, if I didn't want to relapse again. Things started getting slightly better for the next three months. I was getting frequent phone calls by Ingmar, however I couldn't face him at all. These pills I would take, made me feel really stoned and my mind was completely numb. In early 2022, we released our live album with Dina, which was called That Marvellous Night in London - Live at Royal Albert Hall. Our friends slightly started forgetting the incident with Lydia, especially after we won the case.

During early 2022, I started working as a DJ in a club owned by a friend of mine, Kristian. I was playing psychedelic trance music, just like these songs I would also compose at this time. In this club, everybody was doing LSD and ecstasy. I wasn't doing drugs at all, even though Lyrica  sometimes caused me to have pseudo-hallucinations and intense lust for parties. And I didn't even hide it at all, at least in those circles of friends, who used to take hallucinogenic drugs. Very often, Kristian would ask me whether I was taking any substances and I would reply to him that I had tried to kill myself twice and that my psychiatrist had prescribed me Lyrica, Lexotanil and Xanax pills. So, my friends were coming in the club, seeing me with my black hat and my dark brown hair smoking, drinking gin and dancing around like there's no tomorrow. At some point, Kristian saw all these machines around me and asked what these switchboard things were about.

"These are synthesizers, not a switchboard", I answered. "You can make sounds with them".

"But they have no keys", he said.

"I said synthesizers, not keyboards. These are completely different instruments. A synthesizer might not have keys, so it's a pad synthesizer, like these ones."

In fact, there were thousand kinds of synths and their role was to create millions of sounds.

At the same time at home, I kept on composing music. Just like before, I would compose psychedelic and trance music. For the first time, I was using the Ableton programme and the tracks I was composing had really weird sounds. I had bought these synthesizer pads, with which I was working at Kristian's club and I was experiencing myself with these. I believe that it was the pills that were causing me this desire to create experimental music as well as giving me the lust for parties and my mind was so numb that nowadays my memory is failing me, concerning the composition of these tracks. Of course, another reason why my memory is still failing me is because this has been the darkest period of my life, so my mind doesn't want to remember what led me into composing these songs. They had neither lyrics nor a specific structure. I wasn't writing completely in random and there was always a story behind these songs, though it was expressed through the sounds I would use. However their structure showed how complicated my thoughts were.

Since I got out of the hospital, the girls were constantly at my place, because they were concerned about the state of my mental health. Jesikka suggested we started writing stories about Orchidea's Tales but I had no lust for that. Furthermore, I was so embarrassed to tell them about the pills I was taking, even though I had no problem to discuss about that with my friends at Kristian's club. One day, though, Dina saw some Lyrica pills on the table and said:

"Why are you taking these?".

"Hanna prescribed them to me", I replied.

"Hanna?".

"My psychotherapist at the hospital", I said.

"Watch out", she whispered. "They cause something.....like...."

"Hallucinations?", I interrupted her. "And they're also addictive. I know, because she warned me against that. Otherwise I wouldn't be able to write this kind of psychedelic music".

"Oh!", she exclaimed. "Alexandria's next album?".

"I don't know", I said coldly. "Probably something else but mine".

The four girls used to visit me every evening. However on the 7th of February, 2022, I was only visited by Jesikka, Sofia and Dina, who told me that Eva was coming later. However, at some point, we realised that it was nine o'clock already and Eva was nowhere. We finally called her at home and in her mobile phone, but she didn't either pick up. Sofia suggested:

"Maybe we should go to her place. Something might have happened to her".

"Sounds good", I replied. "I also need to buy cigarettes".

We went to the kiosk, where I bought my camels: I used to smoke Camel cigarettes, while this crazy girl, Sofia, was smoking unfiltered cigarettes! We reached Eva's place and knocked on her door. "Eva", I shouted. "Eva! Eva!". Then, Sofia shouted: "Eva, open the door! I know you're in!".

But then I said: "Sofia, the door is open".

We opened the door and found Eva lying flat on the floor with a sliced throat and next to her a blade of a knife full of blood.

Suicide!