Memories come making me into his jumped- up mistake he made a mistake by leaving me behind, but he had someone he loved, and his love was returned he could not think about me anymore it was too painful he felt the odd pang now and again he could not did not have the heart to feel his heart still beating but worn and wary to see to seek to find me in there. He made a mistake it was all a mistake people do make mistakes they have lack of understanding they do not have only misunderstanding but misconceptions they see things their conscious minds want them to they are also as gullible as formerly they make them they have them still it is an illness which has not been cured. Do I forgive now and forget? Most definitely I do not care to be asked such a question in the middle of my novels.
I feel a deep embarrassment for these people as if their playing with my life is an empty joke for them. They have nothing to do all day but to reason how to destroy my happiness my reason and then they are pretending concern because I do nothing in life. Is it any wonder that I have sought the truth in my abilities to win this war?
There is no happiness like unhappiness. The gangs last night with their mobiles talking in that crass manner trying to undo my concentration as I read that book which I finished reading last night. It was a bizarre thing I had gone to an exhibition which had two of my pictures and I had done it I thought everyone happy there was singing and cheering and everyone was joyful as if the joys of spring were here. I felt valued and happy. Then it was time to go without any feelings of envy for anybody but the work I submitted hang just the way I wanted. It was a pleasure to watch the patterns on everything and the singing blended in with the art work.
The outside a car went scuttling past as I tried to cross the road. It is a discussion in my head about what kind of cars were there here and there. Everywhere I hated these people how they can come into my life and not leave me was a puzzle to me. There was the little girl I had been with the ponytails and someone had tried to kiss me and I belted him with the books in my bag and now I am doing the same every day at 52 years old. I sometimes think I have never grown up and live just the same way as when I was a child.
Remember as I look at people eating bloody burgers and kebabs as if their lives depend on it that obesity is everywhere. What if MacDonald’s poisons the world at least they are making the economy solvent won’t they? Billions spent on nursing care billions spent on nursing and doctors and lost work. What can I do? It is a fact of life that coke is not a cock. It is an addiction to fast food that is ruining our lives our brains our livelihood.
What is power? Who has power? Can my mother not having power be the reason she is like that? She feeds salt in my tea she feeds me with salt when she is cooking she feeds no one but her mania she feels odd as she walks she does not feel that I am her daughter but some scum she has to get rid of her house. She feels just as trapped because she won’t be able to survive without me she wants to destroy the house because I love living in this house. She fears nothing because she is mad.
What kind of a monster is she that I have made her into? She blames me for her troubles for her amputation for her lifelong miseries because I was born she wishes me unborn so that she can become young again so that she can sing at parties and flirt with both sexes or sleep with a woman and to flirt with the men. She was sleeping with my auntie her brother’s wife she was sleeping in the same bed as she. She did not like it when auntie married uncle and they got rid of her. Mummy was bundled out of the flat into the cousin who had children so she could look after the children but she nearly caused an amputation in the child by covering the finger of that child. Her niece my cousin was so mad when she found out that she had to be whipped to Cyprus and they never spoke again without the niece shouting at her as if she were deaf.
Scandal of mum what to do with mum without a doubt mum is a sorry sight with her malicious enjoyment as she tries to ruin whatever I have. Why she is doing this what is the reason for her lost soul? Why doesn’t she let herself enjoy life without this harassment she does to me? What can’t she have achieved if she had wanted to? She has the brains she has the guts the courage and the will power to do all that she can do. Yet she is trapped in her little world of pretence as she tries to destroy all of us because she is vindictively searching for ways of destruction. Her behaviour is such an ordeal for me as if her being mad is nothing compared to her being evil. For I have worked all my life to prove that being mad is not evil unless you are evil. Being mad is for some people being unable to cope with who you are. Like Szasz said being mad is the problem of living. I’ve seen this in many mad people I’ve seen documentaries films and read and reasoned with all this and researched the parents and researched and found that being mad is the problems of living. It is inability to cope with life and yourself the person you are the thing that gets you motivated into this rhyme I found myself drifting into why people are unable to cope with what they think they should be? Is it any wonder that the inability to see that there are weeds and so many different people about is no accident but a part of being? Without the good there cannot be the bad? It is a fact that if every day was good one would be bored. Imagine if one was every day out in the office doing the work and then out into the pub and saying and doing the same things. What would happen to this creature varied and wise who is alive who needs everything to become human?
What is human? Having a chase round the bedroom and finding the partner and then giving the partner one and then office? Well I think that is tosh if everyone had the same meal every day it would be boring. That is why people divorce and get new partners or they have problems of living and they lose their livelihood sanity and things. So, in a way that book I was reading was right. About how the cause of the problem is the root of the problem and not some do good saying that there is a medical condition. I for one am homeless because I have no home to go to because I am not wanted in this house because I am good. My family want to evict me because I do kindness and I’m supposed to be mad. Mad people should not have properties or sex or love because they are unsightly. So what is the truth behind greed and jealousy and animosity and things bumping in the night?
I am homeless because some jerk of a prince won’t let me work in an office. He has been chasing me round and round the cities and won’t leave me alone. Every time I try to do something he puts a stop to it. It is a sad fact that people are not what they seem. For example I seem to be a mad creature with no will but to eat the country out of their benefit but without the benefit I would have to go and sleep with a man I abhor. I would have to not only sleep with him but to pretend to love him. I won’t pretend to love anyone I dislike and do not approve of. I will be free because I have the benefit money. I have the benefit money because of the system that man and woman have fought to put into place and now they are trying to dismantle the damn thing. Is it any wonder that I the weak should see all this and try to prevent myself from screeching hell? Is it any wonder that the hell I am in is also my work my eyes and my material so is it my soul I am getting rid of or my spleen or what is it that is this war?
A woman says no to a prince and gets the fucking hell unleashed at her by his spiteful childish self. He plays chess with her she as the prize. He is addicted to this game and she is running out of things to say to him because she is getting angry. The game has been going on and on for 32 years. She is patiently waiting for the right man she has even had the chance to hypnotise herself as he tried to hypnotise her into submission. Now she is running as any victim would. Her chance to shine or to be nothing, it is a loaded gun with the last shot aimed at her. She will lose one day the odds are stacked against her. She will lose the can or be canned forever more being chased by the good looking prince with the pot belly of a soul with that first disgusting man who tried it on and he and the prince are like each other as if they were made in the same pot.
The prince’s soul so like the first man she ever kissed the smelly sameness of the first with the good looks of the prince a prize who can’t and won’t respect the women he sleeps with. He looks at her as he is talking to this prostitute and he is telling her off and without seeming to relax into any decency he is turning to both the women as if he is the cock that will suck the land dry.
He is annoyed when Emine leaves the train and there is his henchman to attack her seeing to frighten her into submission there is hell breaking loose as Emine annoyingly smiles at the black man as she tries to get going as if she is going to run into trouble if she stays a moment longer than necessary. She is not running that would be admitting defeat. She stays put looking at the henchman as he snarls at her. She is easy going trying to read the board on the walls as she escalates into the upper regions she thinks she is in the bowels of hell.
What is she? Wondering what to do with her stay in this world she knows it is a matter of time before the cuffs are off with the entire balancing act she has been doing unbalanced. She will do something bad some day she thinks. She will do something bad. There is wickedness there is something she can’t control what is she to do? The escalating violence and spite is such that she is getting scared this is frightening this is where life will end always on that escalator with the escalating vileness. What is it she wonders as if her life depended on knowing exactly what everything meant? Maybe her life did depends on this knowledge and that knowledge there is a pervert she reasons it is perversion she is being chased until there is no hole or corner she can hide in.
What must she do? There is nothing she can do to prevent what she has to do. There is nothing more strangely to be a victim she reasons the victim is always a lost soul wandering here there and everywhere with the escalating violence. There is nothing for me in this world. Then there are the chats she has in her mind with all the people who are trying to ruin her life. She won’t go to bed with any of them.
She will not become a call girl being called day or night and having to sleep in strange beds. She will die happily of starvation rather than let that happen.
“Someone help me.” There is that voice in her head. There is the child in her head. What is she doing she is actually crying for help like that strange woman with the unlucky sexuality that she cowers in her wheelchair thinking she is disabled when she is in fact afraid. What is the world coming to when there is nothing in the world she can do to help herself. She is trapped she reasons she is trapped she is going to be trapped one day and won’t be able to get out. What is she to do?
The psychic told her to behave but what did she do what she did not know and reason was she needed to be near humanity too.
“Help me someone.” She calls again in her way so desperate that she won’t reason anything else.
“Help me please.”
“But who is there?”
“I am not scum.”
That was it she was not scum she was someone she was not a mere nothing.
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