I hate my life

Well. To write this is unnecessary, and yet I do it. I hate my life, and everybody knows it. Does not know my life, really almost nobody knows me, although I met hundreds and thousands of people in my life, but nobody stayed in my life so far… They only know my life is unworthy. I am not worth much, and I don’t really am a person, that should be here in this era, this world or at all to be.
To write here does not really make sense, since you can see me, so what use is my writing? I just feel so lost, so lonely and so hopeless. But you know that already….
Everything is so dark.



… the deep sea

There will never be anyone
like you
I will tear my soul out
until there is
a deep pond
where I see through
my feelings and emotions are drowning me.

But I guess also
I am too dramatic
and too romantic
since I am laughed at through the country
of fools
therefor… it does not make sense at all.

I wish my English was even worse
so understanding would not be of
sometimes education is the open door to hell.

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.