Blute nur, du liebes Herz: VII PAIGE

Blute nur, du liebes Herz: VII

PAIGE

In no times, people could be hunted for their organs, just like that in the street.

Count on the governments, if so, like usual the responses to traffic will be:
oh, no, no, we don’t know what’s going on. Just to find from times to times that one of the head is a C.E.O or an M.P, given a 1 % on profit fine.

Fine.

Fact: trying to find the recommended daily amount of calcium and dairy has very little information, half as complex as a basic understanding would need.

If interested, pay for private companies to dispatch on your health.

End of history? End of humanity? No, no, not dramatization I am not preaching the end of the world.

Soon, organs will be tracked.

Cloned? Would not be a problem if humans strove to set the example on how there could be mutual life and respect.

Humanity?

On sold.

Why is there on t.v about art, people naked and dancing talking of ‘love’ and liberation and money?

There are the compulsory view of censorship. Anything else and you are put down.

We all are on the last jugement of anybody.

Question: how long?

Certitude: never be satisfied with the fold we know as at it will be the one of our abandon.

What one gets is shit as soon as he had it ‘killing’ others and their own liberty?

‘unless rights do not have meaning somewhere, there are little meaning everywhere’

United. HumanRights.com     

Quotation.

You cannot feel how the fact that you simply agree to answer me is relieving.

Look I know that I have to apolosize for the letters a few years ago.

They could have sounded like if they were asking you to come back, or try to do it again. It was not expressing myself well.

You are doing like you did though. You are condemning me twice.

You are telling me again and again like if I could not escape my former love story.

I already had suffered enough in the name of her, and more the way I behaved after her erasing me.

I don’t want to ascert again because last time it is what we did. You told me you cannot forget, I told you I am through with it. Ok in still many pages.

I think that I wanted to make the point that even if I was under a spell, that I permitted to be my so sad fate, the person I encounter had finally really counted. I just realized I felt that I missed to live for you a long time after the abime. ???

Let’s get clearer and politer, If I d really like us to meet it is not to speak about it, or to try to convince you of anything. Since I can say that without being afraid of your disappointment, you are my ex, you are my friend.

The idea for paris sounds very good. I might go there around april-may.

If you want to come and visit London, I d be great.

Be the one to say let’s do something good because everyone is doing bad.

But what would be our position if everyone was trying to do good?

Equilibrium and fear of the vacuum or vertigo.

As usual it is nothing but a piece of impulsive writing.

Now something I ll take the time to read, correct, precise, or clarify.

Just the need of putting a story on paper.

It is like one of the story of autism or else.

Just a tale about dreams, cerebral activities, and communication.

The world is spirit. People exercising their minds.

The minds following the traces of what is left and given.

The families like clans from where you won’t escape or orphan. Or new but for this everyone should become safe.

A middle-size town. In this family, the rules are like that. In this other, one can know if it may suitable to his needs, because they hold a shop, a wide reputation in the borough, the girl, her mum, is beautiful and she is to sell.

She is all that is more secret. She is kept. The parents used to be poor. Peasant was her grandfather but ok with food, servant was her grandmother after her own mother, widow, crippled due to the war bombardment was to have her calmness and kindness shone when people threw stones at their emptied house. Sometimes is better to be fewer than among untenable. She learnt being a servant and idolized work as being the only value on earth. The one that gives something in the plate, if you are not to badly located. The one without she thinks she is good for naught, like most of people claiming that it is better to be dead than to be old. –it is odd, everything comes in and out of our brain, the entire comprehension of all what life is, but the day we cannot move our body to produce some paid stuff, destruction is directions.-

I don’t know why they sell what they sell, the shop is not rentable enough maybe, yes this at the beginning but not at that period. Did that last long? I don’t know sufficient.

The young man is most delicate. He has something in his loves that people take as a pretence for all that are imaginable of their frustration and sublimation on his passage personify.

He has to stop, he s met his man, the story, the campus let him petrified.

She is perfect, as delicate as he is. She is almost incorporeal. It is not an easy task to be alert when there is no way out. And above all she dreams about freedom and tactfulness, something as light as the air in the strongest shelter.

He went there, his silhouette took her from the cafe. He is a promising student, she has got no time or self confidence to go on with her own study. She is so self conscious that people will dispose of her. Maybe also elsewhere. Or her well being and balance depending on the time she spends on thinking and information processing.

Her parents did not want to let her go. He is without money. The reputation of this suitor’s father a former procurer, violent, some said a killer. The suitor’s mother, a former. They did whatever to prevent her, but for what she felt respected. At home it was harsh, as harsh as her mother, as harsh of being put in a orphanage because one s mum is a war cripple, as harsh to not have a proper diner before working for nobles who think you are good because you work until you sleep, dry as dry as having to work 7, 24 hours. She just helped her mum not so much than the mum worked, much less, but to go out was forbidden.

Her father brought up by a mum widow too, amidst boscages and forests in the war-killed husband’s farm.

Now here come the daughter. One year and a half after this relationship began. The young woman is finally pregnant, 21. At this announcement she will be thrown through the cellar’s stairs, very steep, narrow and humid steps, without bend, 17 of them that you have to count in order to know which one is the last to walk down. Any way after the 14, was the wall, in angle, square.

At once they married.

Contrarily to her, he arranged his life around study, mates and fiestas. She is solitary. Her job, her daughter, but she thinks she is not capable, fortunately like she says she found someone at work who helped her with keeping it. Stay nice, always nice and polite, you ll do mistakes, try and remain humble, it is why they spared me.

He is idealist, adventurous, think fair.

Before her the story of him and his mate in the campus, that terrorized him. The story comes back. Not that it was far, but he understands it now completely. He feels trapped as much as betraying. He dies of sorrow.

Him is gone but his body remains. Maybe for those who believes in reincarnation, it does not only take place at the birth of the baby being.

She fall for his delicatness, it is gone and for avidity.

The daughter is two years old.

The problem with the fiestas becomes clear. He does not come home, he cheats on her, he drinks liters. He justifies it by being a good marker, by being a man, by being successful and also by being more seemingly settle and better handler than he concedes his wife is. It is a u turn. The only aim of the game, the one that will permit him to recruit people, for performing all those deeds is gonna be money.

He ll become a well-known professional, a head hunter, a recruiter with a diploma in psychology.

Work 12, go bars, and hunting games on Sunday.

No one hardly sees him. Nor the daughter or her younger brother.

When he is back he switches off the mum’s radio. The diner has to be silent he watches the infos. The children don’t see him at the table, he is chairing, a table used like a U, and every body but him has to twist in their chairs to look at the tv. Every time a liquor if he did not go to his friends’ bar, always at least a bottle of wine down, along his two packets a day.

The houses he chose are always miles from the town. With acres of land around. Objectives: no neighbours. They are too noisy.

A land he looks after when off-season hunting. Trees, hens, ducks, cats, horses, a dog.

The daughter helps outside. It is not the place of a girl but she has been brought up partly by the father’s parents. The grand father spends a lot of time in the garden, and he looked after her alone, as he was retired and his wife at the factory. The daughter is quite restless she needs to move around, she will be welcome outside. Outside to exercise and also to socialize. No neighbour around or no a lot of communication. But one completely magical element here. She is brought up with animals. There is no human to speak to but there s them, her friends, her family. She learns to tame scratching cats, in seducing them by the regard and massaging their flesh without putting weigh on their skeleton. Learn to scream like birds, to thank a hen when getting eggs, to clean the barns and stables with pleasure. To cuddle them being wrapped in warmth, to follow the dog everywhere and thanks to him not having fright when going in the forest or staying in this isolated home. One of the houses, the one in the forest, the first remembrances of having found an infallible, theme of magic. Awe. Call of the masters. The forest speaks too. She speaks but the effect is different because when you are in her, she covers you, no way to escape unless you run miles and anyway this house is inside her, you can’t stop listening, you can’t stop hearing. You won’t. you are its part.

And each plant, flower, insect, wind, or mammal, can reveal the universe, the day you are it. The daughter is in awe; there you have to listen intently, in case you should run away or towards a mystery. 

On Wednesday we are often alone, except someone to help with the housekeeping, the Saturday afternoon is at sport when the marks at school are good, but that won’t last 3 years. On weekend or alone with the mum, often in the park helping outside, the grand parents come, the friends too.

The day together. The dad never speaks but about his business and his strict narrow minded view about hierarchy and economy. Never answers a question about life in general but to hush or scorn at predetermined minority described as debauched. I don’t know, whatever about study at school, or happening elsewhere, when a discussion might have been brought it gonna be stifled not by rhetoric, but because if one tries to bring it further he shows signs of imminent bursting. He is didactical. The ways he said is the only way allowed repeating, if not you are stupid, if you are stupid better you watching your back. Not your back per se, he would not have touched her, the way things were going, she would have dreamt of just have the concrete opportunities to try and killing him.

No but things are like that. You speak when allowed, you don’t discuss: it is a not, he preaches study, but like if it was his personal accomplishment, some kind of challenges too remote for his children to take. He is an owner not a chief, work for him and his pleasure, with only that in he ll never give any info, he switches off the radio program scorning the other professionals, throwing in the air the mother’s books when he decides for her to do something else. He is proud of coming from a worker family, and encourages his children to learn a trade. Any, he said the one you want, but what he meant was as far as you can, become from me independent. He speaks as if if he knew about being a worker, he forgot that he never touched any tools, but 3 months for paying his holidays, which sounds like being 30 years in his mouth.

One rule he says he followed: nothing said or more not deepened conception in order not to influence. The slate like that will be blank, they will see for themselves.

I guess it is a theory like another that brings its lots of good. He managed to follow that intently, he is studious at it, and alongside that to justify it, he will adopt a philosophy stance, of ‘don’t fight others, fight yourselves’, ‘there is not weak nor strong personality’, only differences in aims, origins, positions and expressions’, and an obsession with how in life to be or look for being as freer as possible.

She absolutely loves and admires this tactic of the mind apprenticeship. The problem is that even if it is the only philosophical sentences you allow yourself, lives are lauded with injustices and biases, and that if no one is up to talk to you about those, you gonna learn the hard way. Her character, obsessional. Her father was phobic, he will reveal to her that her main feature is the recurrence her thoughts and wills may take; maybe also the fact that for perfecting this objectives the more focused the interests are, the more embraced by it you could find yourself.

(T)he thinks that his wife is a dull because she won’t negotiate. She has a good job as a technician officer, but he has the money that brings impunity and shallow acceptance or gullible deference.

He has machismo stance. But not really as he does not bother bringing up his son. He is rather in a modern society and like modern activities, also his son would have the hint he is a male and he will be served, that he will deserve the leading part but his children will have quite the same. Also because he loves his daughter and that she is alone willing to work like him. 

In fact one can wonder if this masquerade is not simply to bring about adversities. He knows his girl, he knows it is the way she is gonna turn tougher. He knows his boy, he knows it is the way he is gonna turn more uncritical and mellow facing him-not for always but when you don’t invest you only can see shortly.

In fact the daughter helps while the son doesn’t make a move. He is given best part in pretence of a better behaviour. But what they talk about is someone who have to lie to have the sensation of controlling the situation by bringing havoc as the rest of the time he will be left the whole time alone. Like his sis he is alone, her luck is the relationship she shares with the animals, and also with the other members of the family cos she learns to be more wary of the father who praises his quietness only.

She is in her stories. Like a interior voice constantly on. It may come from her mother’s passion for radio programs. It is in fact their main get together hobbies. In the car, houses long way from the town, in the house. People, journalists, experts, politicians, artists…speaking. She is not literary. She has not concentration enough to read difficult stories. But she is plenty of these programs, the programs from the radio or the tv, from the history that read her mother and grand mother, from what the teachers explain at school, from the family story, and finally from the ones she keeps telling herself, inside, trying to find the way she will be strong and happy when the time of adulthood comes.

At school, after the primary, she drops. No more good marks, no more attention for any kind of homework. Only the rocking pace of a teacher who tells.

At the recess only one activities. Marbles till 11 and soccer till 14. =no speaking.

Since she has 4 year old, she thinks and people say that somewhat she is deaf.

It is very difficult to manage to explain that she does not pick certain sounds.

She knows about theoretical discussion, the one people face you with, articulation clearly, facing your eyes, the words they would be ready to repeat when you ask if they could speak louder. But the one people whisper, mutter, slide or cry when far she cannot.

It is not consciously disturbing since no one explains. She likes being on her own. Change of work since she does not have the work she wants, change of towns since she has to find opportunities to be trained.

Also she knows about being a bit different. Maybe she will develop the particularity of blocking this hearing the others’ remarks as sometimes they are only derogatory for the sake of throwing out some rubbishes.

Maybe because between 16 and 21, the only outings is with her dog, her jobs or popping in and out pretending giving a hand to people because she cannot concentrate on a volunteer activity more than 15 min as too much busy drinking or smoking again the dream of her travels and her lost paradise.

She began being and reader.

At 20 she began to train for something in the field she would like to have her career in.

A big center with a therapeutic farm. There the same story, she spends hours and hours with teenagers almost her age. She knows that a new word opened, she looks for defining it. Books, observation, application. The work is intense, with her colleague they decide not to take a rest as the farm depends just on them and the job is so thrilling.

Once again, she fells in love with someone. She always arranged to be in love with someone, long lasting feeling. But this one is a colleague, every day, a motivation for her to work hard. This person taking all her thoughts. Her investigating the empty space the promise left. But on this year she realises.

She realises what is going on in her sentimental life. She always loves women she was too young to woo with the impossibility for them to accept more than courtesy.

Besides it each time she came across with someone with whom she could have stayed, her only topic was the woman who once cherished, adored, went away from their vow.

She was pregnant, they could not hide anymore. They were young, they made lots of mistakes. The worst for her was to pretend to be macho, insensitive, make blasé. She told her and showed how much of her to be hers, but did not know how to say that she did not know how have it settle and last. At that time even her whole person, or rather the knowledge she had of it could be enough to know what to do for being in every way united. Her aim since was to find a job and write from anywhere till the day she accepts to return. She would experiment the most incredible adventures and her peace of mind would be to report them until they marry again.

This new person, her way of thinking of her all day is a way of praying to be taken by her, but she won’t. The same story, not easy, ready match, even though it could be perfect. Second year she gets pregnant from a long-term relationship, someone she will divorce in a while.

One detail, she does not know that the other person could love her. She talks about her first. And talks about going in emergency humanitarian camp.

She regards this new person as her new window on the relationship she wishes for: someone who could be there when she would come back from 6 months mission or less or more. Someone in whose arms she could cry out of despair. A person she reckons who would not stay.

This second year a revelation. Not a peaceful one, but something that gonna change her life. Her point of views, the dimensions she will explore, understandings, holistic notions, her behaviours, her whole perception.

You can read into the unconscious, into the subconscious, you can listen the lessons brought by the wind, each movement, each noise can borrow and articulate a thought that teach you a feeling, a sentiment, a perception, a sensation, situation, idea, reminder, hint, enigma, omen, some kind of a reality.

Each form can become an ally, each energy an inspiration. Everything has the ability of conveying sense, concepts, life. The whole universe conspiring.

Parallely as the whispers are coming from everywhere, as the voices are interior too. The ones who are exterior, this social game, again will be unknown from her.

This social game still unknown or rather not identify as such. She can hear the comments but one, she will think it is only in her head, maybe an ability at translating the move, the energy, the subconscious. Two, she shall try and try and try unrelentingly to hush these sounds. Not that she is against them, but facing this profusion of them when they are thousands, at the beginning, hundreds, for a few years and always scores from then her behaviours have changed completely. She usually so unflinching. She did not react at nothing she’s always being deaf, maybe it was good in some ways, she was able to concentrate totally on inners and conceptual paths. But now, she is facing unstoppable storms of comments, knowing nothing about that some are from the person who are around, talking in the air, and no some kind of energetic reading or telepathy.

She gonna stay in that state and interpretation of it for 9 years.

The first years, the voices are extremely aggressive or affective, very loud, very numerous, crowded, fighting, constant. Sometimes she calls them like a new game, a new exploration, a new version of the facts and situations happening, new motives and descriptions. It is mystique but…it affects so much her behaviour and concentration and relationships. For the voices it is inside the other persons that she looks for finding them.

She knows they are inside objects, any moves, that they belong to the humanity because any energy can be translate into the language she knows, even foreigners’, say unconscious will speak a language they don’t know consciously as the energy is beyond any tower, or fortress of any height. They belong to humanity as humanity belongs to the rest, and the fact that things speak her language is just the translation of both minds that carry and care.

She knows that it is not about one person but since her entire vision transforms and more, since people react completely differently now, she desperately looks into them.

Basically it will be years of bullying because people want to check what make her look so unstable, how degree of violence and if she can hold it. She holds, but holds so strong that you can see the battle, and her face is so tortured, and she takes grudge on people, she won’t attack them or be impolite or deliberately unfair. She shows her sufferings and make clear she takes a grudge on the fact they judged when they should admit that sufferance is somewhat logic, maybe even not expressed enough because of privileges that trigger and fuel injustice elsewhere in the open, and right in the richest, safest places in the hidden.

Two years after she will have to pass an exam for being a professional lorry driver. During two years she has been going on in the social activities field thanks to her previous references but the torment that can be read in her gestures worries, concerns, distresses, let me say apparently, people.

In her lorries, usually she sleeps in warehouse after 250 miles of national roads waiting for the day after for the wayback. The most possible the same route that she will know by heart. She chose lorries because she will be alone without someone to denounce her abnormality, maybe also people who stay those long hours alone may better understand sometimes. It was a good period of her life, only that it takes long of learning and that she hoped to listen to English language during the drive, record of list of vocabulary and the radio the scarce time she can tune into cos it s in France, it is what happened but again a lot of time recording them and a lot of time where the record player are uncompatible or broken, hours without listening English, the aim of her being in a lorry.

Consoling though the fact that in the cabin it is possible to dream away, to think, to listen French program or songs or just to feel what is waiving inside, even see some flash or her face through the screenfield when the night falls and the light in the lorry is needed or is outside taking a special angle onto the transparent.

The sunset, the every tinge, and frequent galls, lightening reveals the countryside along. They are poetic trips.

Part time job, part time university.

The last 4 years a slow recovering of confidence. Since the beginning, only when she is alone that she let her mind suggest, mind she is always alone the most possible, she s tried to shush it, the exercice, exhausting, being to flee away from these persistent manifestation, do as if nothing were, but she seems as much as bizarre, tough since does not have any alternatives to lower the sizeable degree of her agony.

She counts on the passing of the time. Everyday she repeats to herself I know that the fight is to find some balance, that i could work far from human beings, that if I find a balance with my intellectual functions, then I ll grow undisturbed.

Hours of thinking, hours of writing, hours of reading, hours of listening what her ‘instincts’ have to speak about. She lives without anyone. It is no time to bound, she tries, but she looks for some serious relationship, she want to leave the continent, almost no one answers and when they do, she will avoid every happening, one after the other, and for each she will regret it and redeems it unsuccessfully.

She lives completely or almost on her own, waiting for being able to announce a planned regularity, she wants someone to share a den and her vow of silence. She won’t live her life without meeting someone with that sort of similarity.

Finally in the country where she is supposed to study language and her future speciality.

It is time to go back to the social sector now. Her head is so busy with the simple work of translation, with the act of speaking and answering that her emotions are lessen.

It is this day. Every interface has a day.

A playground where one waits. She hates and is under pressure when she has to pose, but at the same time she is getting the optional unit of patience, without you cannot do innovation nor progress.

All the work she has done in these last 7 years or so is insolated. When it is not she acts like a robot with one aim in head, not answer emotively as her inner is tormented and she won’t have it spread or opt for not saying anything as she knows that everytime she risks the completely subjective, going from nowhere, out of other’s perception, reaction. Also For years she has been unable to stand near someone else without having to shake or spasm.

the first years any dating is out of question.

After that it is ages she has not got any real type of motivation out of the fact she has to get ready for studying in a foreign country. She wants a degree, part time, long time thus.

She will even meet interesting people, for the first time she will feel love without any pretence of being so. She loves in thinking you are my platonic encounter. Nothing may happen I know. To arrive at that conclusion and practise of course you will have to distance yourself, above all when this platonic relation is your main one sentimentally. Also she will wear blinkers; the time appears so stretched, not so yet, because she does have to put all, every inch of her energy into learning, on fear of failing. She will manage 0,1 point fewer and it would have been under the pass level.

Sometimes she wakes up thinking I don’t push, I ll never think of her else ways than the situations we meet at days, but maybe when minds sleep, bodies join up.

She goes on resolutely, thinking of her future and thus present improvement, but cruelly this lack is excavating.

But she is warned against that. Plus the aim is being as adventurous as possible, maybe share something with somebody, yes, let me share something with somebody, it is her beg, the only. But one sure thing, she will serve poverty. She is repulsed by opulence, not that it can be a sign of modernity, and performance but that mostly it is a sign of abuses.

Whatever she ll do she will do it not for the money, and whatever live a simple life when all means will be for health in order to continue her mission the best. If money left she will be able to choose her position where the emergencies are, and with the more independence she will be able to grab. Voluntaries or and do every turn to find a position where her skills will be used for striking.

She wants a life of roaming in the name of that if not she knows that her mind is not to rest.

She resumed working in care for one year, but today, she will join a very exciting place, a place from where she has so regretted to drop out.

She learned a lot out of here, but she d like to have known sooner to take the weapons she needed, at her age she would be exercising in the right niche she is still so afar. This job she always wanted to do thinking that doing on the ground stuff would toughen her. Tough in that way sure, but 15 years expected more to perhaps pass the exam required.

Peace is like a trainer, a leader, as tone as relax, ample, harsh and smiley. She can look at you from higher, a mouth as open as distant.

She was determined. For the first time in her life, before, 1 day before going in this place she thought, am gonna work with a lot of people in those big places who chose a social job, obviously I ll find someone being closer to devotion than to a simple occupation at having one’s time spent.

She knows she will find someone, even a lot of people amongst them, in fact all people but the affinities on how you reflect, when it comes to similar engagement are 99,99% not compatible with being allowed to think of an intimate, inner, daily as well as long term and time-place shared relation.

So she knows she will find someone but she thinks ‘hey, no way I flash on someone, working, that is it. Plus if you want some time out well try to find someone out of there, but not there, you know how you are, there is only your job, your reading, and travels for the them that bear real importance for you. Also this day is a great revelation because today she thinks, here it is my freedom, I don t want anymore serious involvement in this section. I know why now it has been years of failure it is just that describing my aspirations to anyone who wanted to hear that it was obvious that I was the one to discard. She has been trying since she has chance of going around to find an engagement, result, catastrophic volley or no, that time thinking, contemplating, and feel freer and freer as she come nearer a more comprehensive vision of what her life should be.

It is revelation. She won’t seek something longer term possible, now the rules are clear, no anymore concessions, she cannot, who is gonna follow vows of silence, and frugality. And anyway who would follow her program, if she find someone like her the person would have her own speciality, ambition, callings, priority, places to go. And if she finds the ideal match, and if she eventually becomes good, real good at her task, it will become too dangerous to be followed at all.

This time she is freed from her ancient sine qua non, years it has been unsuitable for everyone and know to understand that she must not persist as I can be alright for noone.

It is so good to see how she will survive. She knows that her first has always been on the way, but 3 months ago she wrote to her a letter telling what is now at play. It was not but the result of its reading would be a definite split up. She knows she not gonna accept this living conditions and style, never. Her old dream returns. One day at the age of retirement or maybe just a few years before dying if I manage not to stop I ll come and see your place, to see if this dream is true. To find a woman, alone, in a sheer countryside, a little home with a garden. Intact. I know that I am able to wait for this moment, now I know that I can do whatever ok since in my mind this possibility. If I found that she cannot do it, my life will have been fulfilled enough for dying helped out by remembrances deepening the then travel of my remains.

For the first time she reconciles her life project with her love life.

She is the organiser. Her height, her dynamism, a taste for overseeing, through her effort towards sympathy she seeks to propel motivation for the troops.

It is clear. It is spell.

Ok, ok. Adjustment. Anyway it is good to have someone to think of every now and then. Good example. She exudes health. Looks after her body and brain. It is good to have that kind of standards as stimulus. Plus I saw her only after a few days working so he won’t be too obvious or too heavy. Perfect, I ll have to detect this presence from now, bringing fire far from the minor frictions or frictions from details that are able to disturb or distress. For the bigger picture it is when I feel, that I find better how to help out.

She disappeared for two days.

An assembly. I am with a little guy, the same first name than whose of my first son.

Mind, her mother did everything to let me know that she was out of sterility till the day we concert. She called him the place we met. The only thing I could not be the father, I was the other mummy.

She stayed with her husband, I have been aiming, since it was the plan B, the one she laughed about when trying to bring about release. Absolutely amazing, when I saw him again at 4 years old he was exactly alike to my own brother.

We have to go by the backyard. He is gonna be the child I understand more, seemingly violent, but in fact groaning to closer get with an warning: ‘neglect’.

She is here with a big guy, the same name. they face. I almost run by him out of the freedom I felt being around children again.

She gives me an indication, loud, clear, simple. She does not acknowledge I ve received an electric shock at her willing to talk to me. I am visible enough, don’t start, it is pain all over more inside. She will think her say too authoritative, I wish she was my teacher at university or someone I could write all my live about stuffs she could find of some usefulness. I hate thinking this woman is a teacher that won’t study the same as I do for the rest of this live. This energy that she will exert and that could not fall onto the scope of my specialities. I hate thinking that my obsession towards my books and stuff could not participate in awakening and nourish her personal interest. After the flash, the hammer.

She felt this whirlwind it is here she thinks that she might have been too authoritative, not noticing my craving for her voice, not noticing I know already that I going to be furiously in love with someone who could not bear me.

She adds something to reassure me about her attention, it is not dictatorial it is for the sake of the network of the professionals and pupils, it is to break the ice. For goodness sake, they may even suspect I am meltable more than mutable. 

She is up to speak with me.

Anyway it is rather good news, an amazon cannot missed to be married, fixed to what has become her territory. She just gonna be a model or reassurance, of class, of rectitude.

I love her. It is all that counts. I ve learnt to drill my power from this certitude of having someone to fight for, and redirecting it onto the scheme I look after.

This week was and will stay one of the most fantastic steps of awareness in my life. An unbeatable.

No seriously. I remember to be aware from a young age of a voice that might stand for a kind of conscience, that arouse the fact that you are alive-but what is all about, underlining some feelings, emphasizing some parameters, boosting some ideas, spurring some ideals, determining some aspirations. Often this occurs when I am dead alone.

Then this day or like an explosion subconscient, instincts, observations diverse will flood out of my senses.

But now it is this day. How it come it is this day?

It will be the day of my social deliverance.

I am special. Ok this peculiar adventures have me perceive and gather info on subjects that I would not have explored without being prowling aside.

But this week I will learn about what everyone around is conscious of but me. The use of human voices or resonance are used thousands type of degree whereas I officially knew one.

The explanation is confused. You cannot render that. I was about to say ‘you cannot render…’, but I don’t want to bleed on it, also to qualify it conceptually I ll do with the former.

Because it would have first to find for myself how it possibly is that it has been waiting almost 30 years to get what the babies do.

It is alone. Or having tough activities, or listening to the ideas on the radio or tv displayed.

But there is more about it. At this stage I cannot think of the whys I am simply as amazed as relieved by the what.

Amazed. It is no what has lacked.

I ve been amazed by the rhythm of the brain and the songs of the bodies, the waves of moves and energy. Amazed is when they give me a rest, when they come back, they take me.

Empty is when I go, never of those happened, it is when I deny myself to be in life, that I refuse life to bring the unknown, the unimaginable, the treat to the mind saying go further and you ll see that you used to be blind.

Also, it is because it brought so many reversals, teachings, milestones, hopes, exultation, forebodings, prophesies, calls, visits, strolls, that you manage the abysses and lows.

I stopped tempting the death on me the day she adopted me. She swore to keep me.

We had to go apart, my life loosing her hopes of her but not the strength that gives liberty.

There is no room for me to believe I ll replace her, I ll have a marital life simply. But I keep going on because the last but one day we saw each other, we had to protect our family, what happened that day in that room I ll never see it again, never feel a discharge of time with such intensity. It is what keeps me alive and decided. Knowing that supernatural is all around, waiting for the people to treat life like a sanctuary.

Those echoes haunt. I ve been trying to quell them for so long. All I want is my life back. Being able to be taken on for job I am ready to work for 24/7. Since I ve got problems with my display of energy, having to hide or repress what it is happening internally, just when it was one year left to be ready. At 21, getting ready to do humanitarian jobs and raising my grade and education as the years of experiences would have risen in number. It is all I wanted, being far from it not because of what I did but because of what people felt about me, my wrecked face and my taciturnity.

It is like torture almost, a constant torment. I soothe it thinking I ll always find a door as long as I dedicate my time towards the exits envisage able.

Tackled like that, I d plan to resume studying. I did not pass the a levels.

And directed by this objective, since then.

Why that week?

I am with children again, with adults I was left, but at last being with little ones again.

I am in an environment I don’t know. I know centres of very different kinds but not this one.

My education background, the strong relations you can have with teachers.

Alert. It is normally that I am not.

I normally try to sleep myself dizzy, in order not to trigger too much stimulus.

Also judgement through feeling, it is so unfair, it is so bully, it is so indiscreet, it is so time-waster, that never I would imagine to bother someone with mine or be inquisitive on others.

I know that this exist but could not guess is one of the main, if not the, main source of daily chats.

(ok it has it tricks in taming, or exchanging forced attention, or it s golden purpose, to communicate info that cannot be officially.

Right now, my brain is hopping mad. I just can’t deliver how it feels.

It is a long time I know that people who don’t have a speech do talk under cover. But I think I am the only one to be able to hear, I ask around me and everyone say no, no. of course, ironical, I don’t think they can answer too without saying it openly. Inane.

Alert to anything I may bring, to anything I know I won’t spot.

What I hear becomes organised, I am very observant- it try when not submerged- of what I can feel from the children and doing that I become aware of the adults too.

This moment, this instant, when I recognize that on this I am not a cripple anylonger.

You are there. This. Ok I has some echo before but my aim for years had been to flee away people. My rule refuse any conversations I could avoid, shorten every of them. I thought to myself. You ve been segregated. You should be graduated. You could be where criticism is needed. Nothing.

Fleeing from people. No dates. Just a pair of friends with who I practise solidarity. I go and see my family to show that I can be studious finally. My jobs. They allow me the one team member one.

5 years like that I ll have to wait the uk to be occupied so much with the language to hand out that what I ve been taking till here as parasite sounds – I treat them like I had to kill them from going up to my ear, like if I hear the demons, and that nothing of a feeling, almost nothing of a perception I should allow myself as it is the sign that my energy is not release to the almighty universal but to a relatively orientated, slated, cannot be innocent or safe occurrences- I still have this belief, even if my attitudes towards my limitations have softened, gotten suppler. It is the last recommendations she had for me ‘in live you ve got to save your energy’. 

That week. I adore it. (on my computer I can see the percentage of the power left in my battery: it is my birth date).

I feel I fly through the corridors. Partly because I have a nice team, I ve been placed with one of the nicest person I ve ever had as a leader in this form. She acts open, she seeks humble. She is motherly. Just the person I needed for having the minimum of reassurance. My mother always repeat me smile in every circumstances, smile. I regularly answered her that there is reason to be sad and all. This minimum of reassurance and support that allow me to smile. Also my serious is welcome, she is so and I d love to give her me loyal.

The dice are cast. You. The moment I am realizing, am conceptualising what happened to my social skills for this past 29 years, a micro second after it is your slight, insighted smile, your eyes lightly closed, your head gently titled towards what you called, processing the moment.

I did not dare watching you often, but what I saw I kept, like if these remembrances were offered in suspense.

A second before you just say something to me while our paths are crossing.

I don’ t know how it come it is then. But since I met you. I know now that you look for your land. I don’t expect nothing, do you hear me, I don’t except.

A pilgrim needs its light, and am engrossed by every second my mind hold a glimpse at yours. I keep it as a flame that day and night keep me warm, a dance that leave me consumed and serene.

I know you ve just sided a greeting at my attention. I catch it because it is as discreet as I pledge myself to stay.

Discreet in the sense of being naturally tender, maybe it is that curiosity that will betray me, the fact that along what I feel for you one of the biggest mysteries of my live has been being uncovered.

Once again a first time in my life. I went through complete ecstatic moments, the strongest ones when I started facing directly, without any way for me to rationalise the presence of ideas, energies, impulses, being as innate as stranger to what I till then labelled as my own person, that is to say, those same by with that you can deal with, that you convey and not those that come and go without you being able to calm their schemes down at all.

So yes, my pleasure since their arrival is to be plunged enough when I can- when I am alone, and when I don’t fight anymore to stay concentrate on my various homework, when these apparitions, quasi demonstrations, carry all beings outside the defined.

I am a pro at ecstasy.

But what is going to happen for the two months on going, belongs to the beyond.

I cycle there, plus I am in a live-in position, and for that I ll have to be on waiting till 8 pm 30 each night at the uni library. I need a lot of sleep, and the week end, due to the same job I cannot sleep either. Also I am just exhausted and will have to wait long hours. Usually I manage to study during this time or read or write or think but now.

I knew trances, I knew. Everyday in fact but speaking about the ones that make you almost become another existence. Those ones I think I could remember each time. Each had their particular topic, particular stories, trips, lessons, objects, researches, missions, aims, plans, steps, moves, purposes, targets, but now.

I am exhausted it is true, not through work but lack of sleep. What happens it is that it is like I was literary lightening. Where won’t be one single minute without thinking of it. It is generally like that when I am in love. But I love like that I happened twice before only. Every single minute of it, and what s a change is that I want to fight.

I reason. She will not. I am thinking over and over about something that is not going to happen, that cannot happen. I fight but.

It s been years I avoid relationship involvement. I want to do whatever I have to do during my hours off. It implies staying hours just in front of a book or my computer and doing nothing more than listening to the atmosphere or ambiance, probing feelings and events, preliminary for a much shorter racking, gathering and storing an effective materials.

Who would be up to respect my time and days. To whom does it give much glee? No one.

I would like to stop thinking about it. It has taken me years to admit that I cannot marry.

You know why? Ok lets say that I find someone accepting the vow of silence that a life of prayers, or wondering or study imply. In my life there is one reason that gives me hope. When I said one it is the one, the one that able me to find divinity everywhere, but without it I d lost every ounce of chance to feel any taste, sense of honour or value or rightness or worth in me. This hope is to be able to give my capacity at work in favour of justice implementation.

That entails that if I become successful at all, my life will become dangerous. I know that my main strength is I am ready for anything. The day I am not anymore, I fail.

And guess the more comic about it, it is what I am and if someone appreciate me they are the whys. Without that I d be distraught, astray, unable to caress the person that throbs my heart and all circulation surround.

I feel bliss all over. The all day, whereas I know she won’t be mine, but the all day I am like allowed to aim at being her suitor. Every second of it, I rethink how I think of myself, how I endeavour, I was the wanderer; I love the magician that sources wizardry out of that used to be unchecked.

And there is this time when I stay inert.

Work during the day, a few duties during the evenings, the time I cycle and the whole rest in the extreme aisle of the backward room.

Always a book lie down, I won’t be able nothing more than open it, at the best read the titles before having to face the distress.

I don’t want children, we are already surpopulated, too much of more than a responsibility, I don’t want possession, or a play at storing the less, I want travel where for my work it is the best to be, I don’t want to have to say the least for someone else to that agree. It is what I do it is what I live and the reason why it is not cumbersome is because I impose it on me only. The trust needed for it demand an inner urge and understanding. It would be absolutely selfish to exact that from the one I am supposed to cherish. This strictness, rigour that has to become more and more unflagging. Without becoming tougher, thicker, when I stop being slack its iron-cast steel.

When in the script position or altogether on the floor, I am thinking of you; I will be introduced to the long version of a before taste of levitation.

Amazed, I can see like a sputtering fire, the boiling of suns, sparkling to where my organism evades.

Drastic.

I think, think and think again. I know it is impossible. I ve got already one lost paradise. Another one would come to me. Impossible. I know it is.

I think, think and think again. I implore. Stop, stop or I ll give away this energy to illusions when I get not enough for my mere bringing ends.

I know I know you are not going to stay.

I know exactly why, there are so many reasons why. Each time I think real I know that what you do is a rescue, that your knowledge enables you to assess the importance of what happens, it is why you raise it, rather than shelving it instead.

I want to tell you all of these. I am dangerous you know. But first I am not sure of what I hear or I don’t, what people say or not, what they think or pretend, what they communicate or hide, what they say to tell or taunt, what they give or abandon, what they protect or display, what they prove or induce.

I am dangerous you know. But what kind of humility is this, am years from any kind of real action. And if one day you see what is my average day. How will I be justifying these periods, weeks of pure inaction. I won’t last a season∞

What about a baby? I am still a single partly for that. It is the first stuff I reveal in general. Clownish.

But the habit, I look for involvement and it is a foolproof technique for discarding anyone who wants the same.

Since her with many other persons, I compared. And thanks God, the same conclusion that recurs, love is love, love is pure, no degree for it. If one day someone and me agree then I ll love as much as I love you.

This woman that did not quit my despair one day, I could say to her, I was not good only at you.

But here is a first. Am a traveller. This the first stuff I shout about in general. I ve been seriously taken into account, in the sense than expecting enough for me to rethink what I potentially may propose, by globally speaking, by a cohort of mermaids, exclusively.

If I was honest, a baby? Yes, one, it is the truth, one only for you. I would have help my wife like if we were without, doing the good half of what I untidy, and being for the kid on a philosophical basis. She wants it, and me I want her. Her. Her attended. I am careful. If I finally find my treasure I want all for what I care about: help and health. To look after her house and body, from the cooking to the relief of every inch of her vessel.

I am wild, in the sense that my inspiration drill from this condition of staying apart.

But if one day I meet someone else’s attempts she would be what human is at my life left.

My aspiration is to be inundated with words, concepts, projects, analysis, theories. Paper work. I want to become a pamphleteer, an incorruptible, fearsome advocate.

Who really would like to share a family with me, in thinking of being fulfilled by my presence?

No one, I know it now.

I ve lost this. I ve lost spontaneous joys. Their so much suffering causing by the neglect or selfishness or cowardice of other people. And each time I think of the tenor of courage in my life, to remember that I only think of myself leaving darkness happening and controlling the world without any attempts at or stopping attempts at doing something. I cannot anymore pretend rocking a baby I decided to be mine, knowing the state of the place I live in.

I used to think I could, not long ago, I could have thought to this again, when I met this other woman. But she would not have been satisfy with only my agreement in her name. and now, I am finished. They would see in me this being sorry having broken my promise. I am restricted, yes very much so, however my play on my chains is the devotion I can lead to my causes and the convictions brought by the lives’ testimony.

I think of this woman, and the thrill that she brings me in my life.

I don’t want to think more, I had a plan.

But for someone like her?

Yes the problem for someone like her. I imagine myself unable to think anymore.

To be in pair with her? To be responsible for a part of her? If I had this responsibility, I could not think any longer to something else. Every of my acts, every of my plans, response, short-term, court term. What I cook, what job I look for, the time I spend choosing my clothes, the risks I take challenging, the time and the frequency of my reading, the fact that I ll have to stop thinking because someone in my heart and my room will whisper to me.

To love her and to be proud of my serving her, I would have to deny the fact that I ve stopped trying for someone else than for my life. Because one’s spouse is one’s life. But one life I don’t want anymore, not the one that will ask me to look after the system as it is.

People have been dispossessed of everything, what can I hold on to?

Thinking of this cause me to enter into trance. These two months when I was thinking of her to realize that she might think of me at the same time, to realize that people did speak about things outside the framework of official conversation. I was so in trance, for the first time, so daily, so lasting, so vibrant, that it was almost levitation, like if I could feel at the highest point of these protruded moment of ecstasy confused with the lurking knowledge of having to renounce it as much as her happiness with me would have been denied, when it went for so long, as if my body was leaving the contact to the floor, as the vibrations gave me the feeling of being a body, my body thinking of all that, was the only feeling I had, my body shaking through the trips then travel of thoughts that he was undertaking.

I am still writing. One year and a half. After it I thought I lived a mirage because my first love came back, I though I was living a mirage.

She came back revealing that was so logic. Yet logic is my strong point.

It was that I understood. If I had to respect myself, If I had to be at my optimum, then would have to face that bring so much disgust, anger. What me render me so conceited at times, because I wish I would battle those demeanours. But what I am to become if I don’t battle them. What is to become the former shortcomings? I am not perfect, but if I don’t do anything against that revolt me, I ll have to gather my sorrows, to pile up my disbelief, to collect the nonsense and convince myself that they are part of life, that they are my life…I d lost everything, every part of me, every part of what I felt that someone else could trust in me. And finally? She will be gone, or worst, she will be there, giving her essence to a ideal I don’t serve. Live without reaching, to see my love every day to certify that I have her be away.

My princess was the aim of my fight. And to be sure I am not the cause of her fear, all reasons for destroying shall have to be wisely treated.

What about finding someone with the same life style as mine?

You made me realize that. My encounter with you has been so extreme.

I promised her, also she did. But never came, never like I used to imagine.

I could not find someone more appropriate. I think you are my mother soul mate.

For me one word hovering, perfect. Ok, granted, I was in awe. I knew the lesson was to have been big. In fact it grew calamity.

i was imagining a person, the person, having been loyal all the time we have been together. I was imagining together, end of life. I was looking after her, and like a old lady she had some pains, or some events taking place in her body, and I could not help her. Despite the love I have for her, despite owing what you have to possess as a lover, this capacity at healing, because she is the way, the aim, the departure, every stage, come back, recoiling of any of yours or any of every single from every move and stillness of all gestures. And my body was over hers, in arch, not putting my weight just my warmth, my head, my noise, mouth, chin, eyebrow, forehead, cheek, whatever I could use as a relief, believing that my mental force could soothe, aspire, like if I could give back the life she breathed into my prostrations.

And I could not. I could not because of my betray. I vow to give my life to someone. And things did not progress like the classical tale. But I knew, already I knew, 100 times less than I know today. But I knew already that I could not go back. I did not know she was still here, but I knew it was by despair that she was away. Away for 15 years. And I thought let me become worthy and I ll return when my strength will be put down to walk only, I know I would die at the second if you d say ‘no’ to me on that day. Astute, it is never a response I could have endured.

To be with someone I would have to betray. Her.

And this capacity at healing, my warmth that should call fire. I cannot anymore. I betrayed my belief.

Am I? life is about it. And I drive my soul hopeless at serving.

It is 3 months ago.

I thought I knew it all. That I could here from the inner of people. I did not notice that they were so arty speaking without even moving their lips imperceptibly. Sometimes the answer or your instinct or your aggression, or animal energy… when it explodes can produce words bouncing inside your brains, the rustling of one’s shifting, the engulfing of one’s blow, the murmur and tapping of one’s rushing blood, the throb of one’s anxiety, the suspense when rightful expectations will be drained icy.

Between the moment I saw your lips moving and the moment I realize that they did not need to move them, that everything did not come from telepathies, it took one year.

The same kind of justifications I suppose. The words realm is the one I explore. Even if this last year I have been half the time looking after someone full time.

It took me an event more.

I went back to my family. Like every holidays. I rest there. I do my duty of giving support to person who gave me. I had a though adolescence but since I try to focus, they are my main friends, I told them everything or at least the things I am able to admit to myself and the mistakes I did that I managed to outlive or repaired.

I came and I understood that there were some problems.

There have always been problems. I don’t want to cite examples. I don’t want to write about it. Are enough this long series of remembrances or not enough happenings for remembrance about what it was.

But my mother. She always told me I was the closest person in her life, always comparing me with cuter and nicest girls though. I guessed she was a mother. She wanted a feminine daughter. It never occurred to me that I could come from her own propensity, trust, desire for what feminine for myself could mean. A jewel that for defend I would kill.

She always told me and I believed her. She d rather stay on her own. It is what I believed, I thought she did by willing and habit. Work, looking after the house, in and now outside since her children are older.

There s issues. My mum always told me you know my life has never been so nice. There are these signs nevertheless, the way she speaks about how your 30s are better, the ways this house has become so spotless. What’s the point keeping all those wooden furniture, metal or glassware object, every stuff in this big home at a 5 star level standard hostel. I can understand for the hostel. It is your honey moon, you d rather not see that people have been there before you leaving stains. But your own home. She tried to tell me, I am sure she tried, but she always fear of doing a mistake on me, she is not the intelligent, the resilient, the one who cope, who face, succeed, manage, and am not either. One day, she tried to tell me, in fact I remember she told me enough loud for me to think you are so jealous, you would imagine aloud anything. She was polishing. And I told her, leave it for goodness sake leave it, what s the point you working all day, and back home polishing all evening, go back to the gym. She pretended she has not the heart at reading anymore, and this history organisation she always said she could not go to because she had to attend us?

She was polishing, I could not hear what she said, and she knew that, but she knew that also I could more voices than the ones spell by my neighbourhood. It is maybe whys this time she tried, or maybe people were trying so hard with me, but you understand I could not imagine people could be so judgemental, I could not believe that 90% of the time people mutter for the purpose of saying ‘I like, I don’t’. I thought that all those comments belonged to my disturbed mind or to a way of exploration of the scourge, eh no, the source of unconscious and the way of finding and gathering paths to indiscriminate energy.

She was trying so hard to tell me why she stayed. I looked at her and could not but saying, you look so depressed, stop, stop. Oh you know I ve become like that I like stay on my own, looking after my house and myself, it is the way I am happy. Her to be happy. It was years I knew that the happier she looked for the outsider, the more violently bitter she was. But at that moment precisely, I could still not dare imagining why, but I knew it was a hide.

There was a problem. And the more she divulgated it to me, the more I got sick, the more her saying was not more than an almost imperceptible breath, imperceptible maybe but not anymore to me. I wanted to hear them and I am suddenly confronted with the fact that I did not know anything about my mother’s life.

This time I can hear what she is thinking even when she does not think any longer.

My ears became sonar. My relatives this march told tale the story. When will you be more heedful than when people inform you about your own origins?

She cannot go outside, jealousy. She tried to admit that to me long before. But once again, this man does not speak his calculations aloud. Yes maybe he said it as well one or two but concealing it under a joke tone.

I could not think that it was true. I stopped; again, I stopped thinking about that. Like something you hear, something that is too much and instead of investigating, you keep the ability of remembering that you heard it years after, but I does not stay in your living memory.

One thing I have to spell: I cannot bear it today.

In march they started saying that she was sexually abused during her childhood. A bar’s customer. He spoke about that mentioning it to who would like to eavesdrop it. In the streets, in the supermarket she goes regularly.

After the same old subject: she is his wife and she is not active enough. He has his quotas.

It is the first day of these holidays and it has been so many years I ve been trying to come in peace. 10 years before the last big fight. Just one night, I was the most appalling night of my life. I asked my mum to stay, she refused, I followed her, praying to stay, starting to explain what was happening, what was happening exept to my sheet of paper, and not in the shape of a letter, yes maybe to her, but all that is left of her is already the address of her parents that she cannot change. What was happening I ll say it to no one. My first secret. The departure time in my life I started to write everything I could, anything I could not share, others I tried to find out the shapes, some pieces I wished to be kept.

Just one night 10 years ago, when I used to have these bright day ‘nightmares’. These years I spent in agony. She knew about that, I ve lost every single, I told her to stay. The first argument I had with her, all her life she managed to keep me at distance, she never put the hand on me but to beat me up, she never spends time with her children, when I asked she answered like if it was assault or pomposity. Her only concern the way I behaved in society. After this night they throw me out, they back up my brother decision not to see me again, so that the I was denied the staying at home even when two or three year after I was admitted back to sleep there. I did not mind too much I always stay with my gran, she is a widow. Even I have my mother understand that I backed my dad’s decision to throw me out saying that these ‘nightmares’ were so powerful that this night, at not any other days but that night I could have done absolutely everything. Not to my mum, I just wanted to speak, but that night it was at the peak of when you rethink in your head of all what has happened, that you may to be too tough on some interpretations and that one stuff remain in your mind- avenge. I knew at that time I was undergoing energy review, more mature assessment of situations, etc, but that night I was persuaded that these were true, and it is all the days after that I daily told to myself, you read the unconscious, nothing conscious about that. If you think someone is the devil, it is not because he is; it is it is just you extrapolate some of its particularity or reaction, and all sort of stories come to your imagination. It was years I knew he was holding her by saying I was a problem, but for goodness sake she chose it, she accepted it and more about she was claiming it was fine and optionally better off without me. Since the day I ve been thrown out I was trying to rebuild the diplomatic ties. Never critical but in politics. He used to blow up when I talk about politics my mum asking me to shut up, so no anylong to say, exept his jokes going on, his stories about his friends, the tv he can criticizes we don’t speak. We are not entitled to an opinion, no diplomas enough. Even if you have, it is your cv he is gonna shoot. But everything is fine because even when I feel a tension, I just lower my head. The tension? My brain.

I told him he is not careful enough, he is not cautious and attentive enough.

He quotes his friends, I don’t know their present friends, when I come I seek quietness, if they received, I go and spend the days at my grans’.

But his old mates I knew that well, and I remind him that making love does not stand to paid, compulsory or conjugal duties performances.

I start feeling uncomfortable. My mum once said that she was finally well on this side, and it had been a relief. I don’t investigate also because of they are not the kind of person able to talk about it. Every stuff is kind of hush-hush at home. Or because it is classified intimate, or none business, or classified, or non argument able, or just because we are not chatty.

And now I can listen to what is said, how they react, she is just asking for consideration, he said he is not to be expect to do it, he finally said that I am unfit, that thank you he knows that I can merely imitate (we rub).

I understand know that it is still a pain. That it cannot have been otherwise. When you understand that he regards it as being in the same dynamics than when she has to serve coffee or maintaining the house crystal clean, then you understand that it is not anymore about coming the conversation but about not throwing up. She knows I know now that one also is a stumbling block.

I am so gutted. He start underrating my own sexuality now. I am so gutted for her. It is only a vague impression at that stage, but i am really uncomfy, and this relentless feeling of malaise.

At home I always twisted and tossed to have a seat. I knew it came from the competitition at not being treated like if I was dumb by my father, like if I was mean and useless by my mum, and like if I was a servant  about to be disinherited by my bro- I pity him, as far as I know he does not have the faintest idea about looking about oneself, he plays the prince without having the dime and used to count on my father to realize that the philosophy of supremacy was not at all about him or fairness or establishment of any loyalty or token of care and continuity, just about whims. He had the best places in the home, but now he is not any more at home…yes my mother still would like to infuse him with money it seems, on that also I used to wonder.

This feeling of malaise. It was not so dreadful but it has become so now. Not in a daily basis, it is not something I wish to think particularly about. Never blame the past for anything, just be relieved to know a bit about its facts and circumstances as it is the way you can tackle the present best.

Yet right now I attempt to have it written. Misery, the all lot. Pity, cos all these are like a big joke about no one can laugh or be proud of. 

Certainly I have to underplay this situation as the contact between us were limited to the diner and some very limited hours.

The holidays pursue further.

She confided that she has been raped when young. We are in the car on the way to see her parents.

There I am told that when I was a baby I had unexplained red blotches. These grandparents accused the other grandparents.

She now announced that after 35 years of marriage her husband raped her covered her with bruises. She is gonna divorce him, problems, they have a luxurious house now, but they are heavily indebted.

I start reviewing the history of my childhood.

A strange occurrence: her parents are with me in the kitchen, she is in the bedroom and try to go on with the story she revealed. They are speaking purposely louder and louder, talking about their vague acquaintances. I am about to say ‘shout up’, they will stand up and go to bed. My face is wrought.

I feel like all my childhood I say to my mum repeating what she acknowledge ‘it is not very perfect sometimes, but look go and work for the historic organisation, go to the theatre, and life is gonna become like you wanted, pass your exam at work, we are independent now, you know how for you your job counts’, I never said more I did not want to betray my father. I start thinking she has worked all her life, she has looked after the house keeping all her days and now they are very under debts…some features of it were missing.

We drive back. It became violent to the point of injuring, almost 2 months ago, the day the secretary told her openly that she has had an affair for years. I ve always thought his secretaries so sexy. Of course I was ‘seeking’ myself. But this one. A model type of course, but it was the first time the family were not welcome anymore in his offices. I told him two years ago, she reacts like if she was your daughter, very aggressively, like if I was breaching her territory. I was far so far to put that into doubt. And I know also why she does not tolerate me to do stuffs on the computer, saying it a high risks of buggery.

My mum told me when I was young about adultery. It was when at 9 year old he left me and my brother and his wife quite often to do overnight travels. She was crying, crying hard, I asked she answered it was because the business was tough, that sometimes they did not always agree. This time also, she say it without saying it so loud that I understood it was about someone else.

When I was a child he used to say that wandering is natural for a man, but not for him if asked.

When older my cousin 10 years my senior told me openly that my dad admitted having affairs. It was a relief to know it, to know that this repellence I had for his behaviour was coming from somewhere.

But it has been years that she almost joked about another women.

Him? He always said that to have a double life you have to be a monster. And he swears that having one night affair were stories of the past. I knew his pals, I forgave him. I thought, he just followed; now it stays more with mum, he changed, you are entitled to improvement, and he cooks.

My mother always has been so prudish, about all sort of intimacy. She used to say that my father and her used to rock me so much when I was a baby, that she did not think that a lots of babies have been so looked after. I ll have to ask this question again since when I asked why I did not have any remembrances of being even the most slightly touched, she answered that she just have missed something, that perhaps I was too rude in disobedience that she could not bound with me any more. As for my father? He was so happy to have a daughter is all I know. And listen, we are not the type of people, if you have still problem about that, you are an adult now, you are in my home, you can leave.

When I called for a cuddle or being with her, in the same room while doing my homework, she would repel. I stopped touching my books further.

At 10 in the class room I learnt how to make a baby, I thought it was when snugging, and after when snugging and touching the navel and that procreating was to bring aids, each time.

My grand grand grand mother stopped eating many days at 15 when she had menstruation for the first time, concealing her bleeding and the reason of her strike, thinking she had been punished by the devil.

We are still in the car, more than 3 hour route. She saw him once, just once, he said that it is because he was drunk, that she, her wife should take it more often, that he is desperate at me becoming a lesbian. She thought I was pretending being asleep. he drugged me.

The sensation of not having a face but a head through which you blood is going. I don’t feel having a face, but a top of a body from which the muscles, every inner of it is throbbing, I can feel that my expression are switching off, all his only the sensation of a new awareness, I can feel the peri-metre, the surround of my brain, almost if now the blood was coming to boil just beneath it.

10 years ago, my ‘nightmares’ became. They told me how that happen and happen again. The first time, I believed them, even one day, a little bit more and I could have gotten ready to kill him. But time went, and due to these ‘dreams alive’, a thousand of them, imaginary, remembrances, philosophical, energetic. Words, stories, disposition, opinion, feeling, predictions, foreboding, tales, lessons, dialogues, advices, warnings, insights, recurrences, invectives, insults, forbid, bid, bet, taunting, teasing, questions, rings, buzz, drone, groan, info, whiz, fizz, phrases, sentences, soliloquies, texts, paragraphs, titles, conclusion, intro, breaking down, solution, stages, step, challenges, pointing out, emphasize, underline, secrets.

I regarded them in turn as parasites, wastage of mind, vice of the imagination, wreckage of the psyche, attempt at conquering the unconscious and how one event could take the shape of horrendous tales or revisiting some of the subconscious borrow from the potential, capacity or reality.

Freud said that when we sleep we don’t actually remember the dreams we have as they are so violent and extreme that our memory is gonna alter the real stories in order our conscious not to be traumatized by the originals.

From when I have been able to deal with these various phenomenons like in partnership with the flowing of life and not like an opponent set up by my mind, I thought it was just eerie prompting at realizing that events could have been just very more grave that they were, maybe also could it prepare my strength, stability, determination, unflappability of temperament. Kind of between what I ve seen and what i know I could, go on with all of that, I have been brewing.

They were so grotesque, between binges and masses pattern, that long time I though my criticism side have decided to do irony on me, like look at how your interpretations and suspicion may turn sardonic.

We return to their home. I know now. When I look at him I cannot help my body becoming physical. He thinks, if there were no laws I would kill you, simple basis. I think, if there were no laws, I would train days and nights, and when you sleep, since you are right you are the king by his money warder kept, I would do that.

When you sleep not that I am afraid. I tell you you think you are stronger, because your fight is not, you speak easy, you do not take risk since all that you do is for you and the devil, you think it is power it is only abuses. Days and nights I d train, as I know I am not the stronger, but with armed with your own self-importance, one blow of someone with a reason and the floor alone to take care of what remains.

But I would do that in the night since your money enables you to be well guarded, because in the nature I wish I would stop more than one like you lurked in manure.

Because now when you approach me or my mother, you mime an attack.

During that week where I stayed he would do it again and again. I look at him perhaps back like at the period I thought, I felt he was my father, because since my adulthood, since the day I understood what was the worker world, that I understood he did not know it, that he used to say, go and earn your money, not for our freedom but because he does not tolerate intellectuality. He is the sort of man than even if you are 10 times more qualified, he will not listen to you or will shut your mouth pretending you’re unworthy. I thought he was a bit gullible. In fact he played being limited, and it is why for all these past 10 years I had been trying to like him, but did not manage more than like him like one likes a stranger.

In fact I did have burst of love, deep, profound, as strong as my best ones, when I believed he had become nice to her.

I can see she almost all the time reacts as if nothing was happening. After a parody like that, instead of taking her bags and go for never coming back, she refrains from startling like when he first demonstrated that he could actually be physically threatening.

And he is going on and on, I will even ask myself why he does not try to beat me up.

Because now he is not my father, I know the dog who lived my whole staying at theirs was, I know that i ll call him my breeder.

I don’ t understand why he will not attack. I am clear, as long as I ll live I ll track you down. Now the master of your forest it is me. You were one of the reasons of my nightmares, of my dejection. (I am fine, am so liberated to at last what my whole family were concealing from me. I understand my instincts, I ll be more armed at having control of what harassed me anonymously.) in fact you are one of the symbols of people’s sufferance. Your indignity, money and reconnaissance thirst, everything I know the rest of the knowledge is for the weaker, your hypocrisy and at the same time belief that what rules is the blood only, only because you don’t train to defend but to injure and put at your service. And you ll never sleep the same till I am alive and the fact is if I die tomorrow, today you ll understand what a wheel is.

He said he did that as he is a demon.

It corresponds to my nightmare, it the ways for vampires.

But let say, if you are so, you are not only so. Let’s say you are both then. Human and demon.

Well do you think that you can apply the human rules to when you are a demon, perhaps are you a demon mentally.

                                                          Demon                               a human, because let’s face it. A demon if you wish to become mythical is a fire being, and it is just that you are not.

So do you think you can mix the rules of two worlds, pretending you are one to beneficiate from the others laws and remembering you are else also to have got all the rules for you and none against. Sorry to say, this is in the Mickey comics.

You have a human life and have been entrusted with people. Don’t say that demons are bad citizens.

If you thought yourself beyond all rules, well you ll come to be shown. That you betrayed the fire beings that are not bad, and instead of perfecting your strength of mind, instead of odysseying the life of the souls, you stopped at the first fantasy you wanted to inflict to others. You stop not to link the two worlds, you stop because you gave up embracing one or the other, you did it for yourself to believe that rights are concepts and facts that may be violated and doped yourself thinking you are the one because for some time you beneficiate from impunity. But here’s the trap, not one second that is the case, and you become more and more as tortuous as slanted, coward. You did that to feel strong but people say yes for you to go away, more and more like this. Even when they say yes, thinking it, they don’t answer you, they answer your lies. Your building is empty and damp from secret tears. And now you think you are so strong, not so strong, I know you need cinema for showdown, you need restrain, bribe, humiliation, frame-up, you need fake and falsified. But now you think the whole realm is rotten, you sneer, but what you were concealing it is what you disobeyed. You are proud, you proclaim be something else, it is for that you d like to pass as. But may I ask if you are it, your aim should have been to become fire again in the face of people, and for that it means lending oneself to a life of spirit and soul, not in nothing terrestrial. You could have chosen to do more than to think, but the human rules is as clear as anyone, don’t kill, don’t hurt, take care.

You disobey. For your inner part, I know you betray, I know you betrayed your father too, when he attempted preaching for more pity than plunder.

My grandfa, he was the one who could climb the trees, the ones that did have to get into fight to protect his cattle. You, show you muscles but they are only knots, that you would not dare using to protect your lot. We all know that, regarding the way you didn’t need any enemies for us to be treated badly.

My face transformed. roughen

She was doing like if there were nothing to hear, it is why I thought so long that there were no sounds up there.

 My grangranma. The meditative way, being such a presence, a pillar, an open book on human strength without moves

They all knew, they all sell their bodies.

notwhithstanding, she was discretely telling me about humanitarian mission, about incorruptibility, about helping the poors, the unfairly treated, to risk everything is what would be at stake if I were to become honest, about solidarity. Theatrality. Being secret. Keep secret. Being fussy. Care, affection, question. Sleuth.

He talked to me about being intractable, about stopping, whatever it takes, someone, if this someone was harming someone else, he brought me up like an attack dog. He told me about being physically endangered. Aim at.

They talked to me about fierce competition, relentless work, playing at never being tired, at never doing something else than thriving one’s make. They told me about being poor, sneered at, about caning, exploitation. And also about that poverty were the causes and the consequences of catastrophes. Distancing, to shush.

Being painstaking, finicky. Sexiness. 

She taught intellectualism. To listen to everything you can grasp tuned into cultural channels. And insist on bearing a smile. And that all my ideas was not rubbish, she told me with her eyes each time. Brew.

Only doing that, and introspection in staying on one’s own.

Him, the aim of not being possibly argue back, to have answer to the most possible of counter-strike.

i ve retained the words deontology, sciences, exactitude, deadline, schedule, reference, newspapers, journalists, hunt.

They were my family and also to remind that I had been straighten up by what they knew was crucial to survival and ideas.

The riddle.

Parameter, perimeter.

To love a stranger, as they know what they did and you do not. So they are surprised by the innocent love you offer. And get excited by that.

My being with animals like me, in the nature, and ways of feeling and communicate.

I ll remember you for your benevolence and potential dryness, that both I adore. And for the way you uncover and expose me. I was begging for security, in your bosom I could blossom safely.

Today I am able to smile

Brag about the all shit

Describe feel destroying a place out of rage

My mind is so weakened that I will let myself fall into thinking that the all lot is unreal, or merely dramatic, a big joke, where even people who did give part of their lives would smirk the whole hoax away.

A lot of difference sometimes, but you always find rational explanations…it is not in their philosophy.

Or this time or I thought to bullying, they just don’t mean it, at the age when I earn my own money and that I was there for the holidays

Always afraid of being unworthy towards, compared to them.

My family I use to always quote.

Phlegm Britannic. The mum goes to contradict the others’ theory of my being dumb. She does not know that the state I am in is not physical, nor mental, or intellectual but psychological.

LEARn to doubt about oneself. Suspect the others constantly as they may constantly lure you into thinking you are loosing your reason.

paranormal

hospital

Your love. Like someone who won’t forget. Really think of taking me, a life, first. You have the been the only one, If you did to do that about me

Did not spot the machismo. The love for my mum

                                                                ∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

The difference between what he said openly and what he injects in the air.

The mind. Something you follow, opening other dimensions. Something you relation with shall be so

Everything that she sees or heards is the way for infinite contemplations.

My love to you will make.

When she understood the background noise and openly asked or reacted, the mother pretending, nothing could have been heard.

The father calling her from the younger age, manipulator, not in front of her, just convincing his spouse.