A metaphorical storytelling

The story I wrote, then, in 2002, or better, from 2002 until 2004, was more written in a metaphorical sense, than about facts or real fiction. At least, that is what I think now. Today, I understand what I meant, when I wrote that “she divorced him, and she lived in a big house full of memories and old furniture, which she was not allowed to sell, and him always allowed to use the house still, even though he did not need the house because he owned five other houses and flats/ apartments. She did not want him to come back but at the same time, she wanted it so bad, and when he showed up, she was confused or even annoyed, because he was so mean to her and he had so much power, she couldn’t even win over him in a jurisdictional manner, because it was his house and she was only allowed through him to live there… She loved him and she hated him (and the same goes for him, he felt the same about her), and he had so expensive lawyers that she was out powered by him… she couldn’t afford a lawyer, and so she waited and waited and tried to find out about her feelings and what she wanted, but also she was struggling with it all because she did not want to lose the house, she loved it so much.” Well, that was the fiction part, I will not go into details, that is too personal. But, the thing is, she was afraid of his power, and one sentence goes like this: ” his lawyers were so expensive, that they were also always the best.”  Another sentence: “the pressure on her began to be stronger and stronger each day, and forced her into an isolation she never would have thought it would exist.”

That he shows up every once in a while means, well, the thoughts I have of him, that I can’t let him go and the whole story, and the house in general means that  I am caged and that it’s like a prison to my thoughts and feelings of the past moment.

 

next stop any airport? or what?

I am out of order. I am tired. I don’t sleep anymore. It is becoming a drag, very slowly but yes, somehow nothing works anymore, in the morning I am like dust and in the evening, I try not to fall asleep, because I am so fearful of death, while nobody cares here anyway.  I feel like am totally worthless, and they let me know that, while treating me like dirt. I don’t visit a doctor, because I can’t trust them. I don’t call anybody anymore, because I don’t want to be hurt. At the same time, I want to get out of my life as it is, therefore I have to  contact people. But I don’t trust anyone. I know everybody hates me, or at least, has enough of me. It is an imminent feeling. At the same time, everybody around me is sick, leaning on me like I am the strongest person on earth, with no needs at all. I don’t talk to them, at least not on the phone or directly. But text messages are too much too. I just want out of everything, out of this world, this planet, and out of this universe maybe.

I guess, you know it when it becomes too much. You know, when you are one too many.  I’ll have to pack my things and go, but I don’t see why I should do that, it’s just giving up and ending up all things, not a new start or a hope for a new life somewhere, because there is nowhere to go. All about me is all wrong, never mind where I go.

I can’t stop the demons from haunting me (my bad ex-boyfriends who just are about themselves and tease me), there are no new people in sight and the house I live in is cursed. I really think about buying a trekking backpack, instead of new furniture, and just leaving everything, hiking trough the world. With no destination.  Because nothing makes sense anymore.

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All is lost… in my life…

Well. All is lost, is what I feel. I feel like I live on the street. Like nobody takes me serious, as if I am not worth anything at all. Ants are taking over my place. My landlord does not care. I don’t have any furniture because I wanted to buy new furniture and clean my life up, forgetting the past and move on in my life, while now, I couldn’t even put  new furniture in this place… Loneliness in such a place is pure horror… I can’t sleep the third night in a row, I sleep during the day so I can stay awake at night while the horror takes place, so I am in constant control of the situation…

And we should not forget, ants can cause an electrical short, which can lead to a fire too…

Well, this is torture, what I have to go through right now, at night. I am not a person that loves ants. They may be interesting, but they better stay away from me, in their own territorium…

Anyways, life is all about dying anyway, isn’t it? All we always do is dying…. all the time, from the first minute of our lives… so, what am I afraid of? I saw it, in my dreams, that will be a constant light, the sun never sets down and it will be all good.

Only the moment we die might be awkward, but then it will be all good. All wonderful and bright, there is no fear anymore, and no pressure, no hurting from others and just goodness. I look forward to it.

I should be thankful, that my life wasn’t so nice, so that there can be enough wonderful things to look forward to after I have died. Well, this is not my goodbye, but who knows, ants cause  a short circuit, a fire breaks out, we get forgotten and will end up, well, dead. Or at least me… Yes I m fearful all night, every night… watching tv and reading the news does not help of course…

I am sure though, that hell is open and it will get worse.

I am sending my love. Just in case.