Thursday, November 28, 2013

My past, my right here right now experience

So started living a little again, my life was on hold for the last months. Being acused, judged and suspected for being a prostitute. It was a crazy mess, but hey that´s life. Its something that haunts you, your core and all the things I am. Did I became more careful? More aware?
or Scared? Never.

They can all go to hell with their accusations, I am innocent, stay innocent and I will never feel guilty or ashamed of who I am and always will be. And that is someone who is proud to wear cloths of this century in this modern age in which will all live in freedom. I´m not going to hide inside of a gray jeans, I´m not going to shut up or lay my pen down, just so I don´t need to worry to be locked up. I don´t know when Sweden became Russia, I don´t know when proof no longer became important, I just know that I was there to see it happen. It was a horrible experience one I never forget but it taught me how unfair life is and that I´m not the only one who gets judged. Discrimination is there in all sorts and forms and I never understood how serious it can be, how it can shape your life. I have always been a artist writing about certain things every one hides away for. Is it wrong to speak the truth? to discover things and learn things about life. I wanna know the parts of the world, the beautiful, the painful, the dark and the light which is always there to guide me home. Life is about learning, watching and understanding but why do we have to go through it? I wonder about a purpose while I don´t even know if life itselfs has one. Pray selfishly like every one for my pain and my families misery to end but its so busy up there from all the crying screams that echo through broken windows that it might take I while to find them. Right now me and my family are stuck in the waiting, waiting for a distand call from the ones who tore my family apart and keep my sweet little sister and courageous small brother far away from us. In a foster house in Sweden they sit still pretending in silence surrounded by selfmade bracelets and fake toys. Forcing frozen smiles on their lips while whispering "I love you mommy." before they fall asleep in their strange beds. Its almost like I hear them calling I spoke the same whispering each and every night in that institution for the 3 months I was locked up in there. If I could have choosen I would have stayed in their place, I would easily have given my freedom for their´s but it was not the call I could have made. I can not describe how much I miss my little sister and brother, how proud I am on them both for keeping faith and for staying this strong. Oh the way my sister talks about christmas and how her defeated eyes accepted already that she´s not gonna spend it with us this year it breaks my heart and the way my little brother asks us what we had for dinner while knowing he´s not able to eat it himself that feeling rests in every bite. To watch fear expressed on their small faces while laughing, laughing so intensely that it hurts to see. It makes you ask life why? why? why? The answer lays somewhere together with the constant doubt of when? when? when will we see them again? We don´t know, and they know it so well that they stopped asking us for a answer? As if they know now that we died each time we heard that question. Its 5 months ago now that I held their hand for the last time, I hugged them both the longest as if I could feel that it would take longer to see them than the others which were also taken. Luckily my bigger brother and sister got released from their institution after 3 months like me. We´re back in Holland now, back home but what is a home when you´re not together. A castle of memories perhaps. I stopped looking at pictures, numbed my mind together with my heart as good as I could. Keep feeling though, feeling everything; the pain in my mothers voice, the wreckless running panic of my father, The constant fighting tears of my sister, The silence of my brother and where am I? I guess I´m avoidiong it, the sorrow I´m too weak to face. I have to stay strong, my mom already cries enough for each one of us. I stay in the distance, putting my thoughts on paper, in music and poetry. It saves me from going in between dramatic waves, I much rather lay on the bottom of the ocean until the day we will all be reunited in our broken sand castle happily starting to rebuild it again.

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