The last few months have been frustrating. I hated having to play so low, splitting tables, and never getting a real run going. But I knew I'd get back up there. And yesterday, thanks to the generosity of my nemesis Cole and Hastings, I did it.

I feel like a fighter pilot or an orchestra conductor when I've six tables going and the mouse is flying all over, click click click, each decision for tens or hundreds of thousands of dollars. Just totally in the zone, my pure poker consciousness; some innate level of thinking. I mean, it feels almost like I'm a puppet on a string, I don't know where some of my plays come from. I just seem to know what to do: when to bluff, when to call, what they've got. Sometimes even what cards will come next.

I finally crashed out at 5am. When I woke up and saw $1.5m more in my account than I'd had the day before, you might think I felt elated, ecstatic, victorious, all-conquering. But the truth is I didn't feel much. I mean, I'm happy, but it was more a quiet contentment than an overwhelming joy. I'm where I want to be, and now I have the freedom to play whoever I want, as high as I want, and for as long as I want. But I'm still $6m down from my peak.

And I still don't have my own place. I'm thinking of cashing out a few hundred grand and getting somewhere to live. At 1am last night when I was six-tabling Hastings, my mother banged on my door and screamed at me to turn my music down. Momentarily distracted, I called a $100k all-in by mistake.

This morning as we were eating Surströmming for breakfast she told me I looked pale, my eyes bloodshot, my skin stretched. She said I looked like a corpse: and no wonder, since I spent all my time indoors on the computer. She asked again why I had to dye my hair black. I think she thinks I might be gay. I told her I did it because black is how I feel on the inside. She told me to get a job. I went back to my room, looked out of the window - another grey day in Uddevalla - drew the curtains, sat back down at $500/$1000, and waited for the game to begin again.