Exhume

Monday 19 April 2010 by Margot
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The year I began to say “alone” instead of “with my parents”, a person I knew only through prefabricated sentences made me cry.

This person was not hurt when reality hit me. This person I had known yet had never met for years held me through preformatted paragraphs so I wouldn’t see the emotions if there were any. I remember knowing I shouldn’t look for them, and knowing that I would look if it wasn’t that I wasn’t let to do so.

My concern was leaked onto these keys. They said “You’ll be okay, you can do better.”

I cried from the fear of pain. But I did not feel any pain. In compassionate arms, I knew there was pain in the room. I just didn’t know whose pain it was.

I’ve learned to hate the words “thank you”. Drugs are dependency, not for me.

One thousand Euros were required, which, when I told it, became more and more, because nothing is ever as bad as it could be.

Home, sweet home.

Sometimes, I feel like the price on my own head is triple sixes.

But in it, these thoughts are priceless. The first step — especially for young people with energy and drive and talent, but not money — the first step to controlling our world is to control our culture. To model and demonstrate the kind of world we demand to live in. To write the books. Make the music. Shoot the films. Paint the art.

To get out there.

PS: “Thank you” are mere words, they are nothing compared to how grateful I am towards those who are here for me. I want to offer you my feelings because I wish you to understand just how important you all are for me. I love you all. “Thank you” is insufficient.


Listen to: Pony Pony Run Run – Hey You
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