Nothing meaningful, unless for you it is.
At this point in my life I just locked myself in my room, I just read books all the time and did quit my bar keeper job. I just couldn‘t stay around other people anymore. The laughter, the drunken guys at the bar, trying to talk about things. I couldn‘t stand it. But I needed a job at some point. I still had some money saved because the shared apartment was pretty cheap and I usually don‘t buy things, only if I really need to, like food for example. It was then, when I saw an ad. On a bus stop I was passing by one lonely night, when I just needed to walk.
My favorite author searched for a narrator and it was a special task because I would actually be part of the book.
I got hope again, although I didn‘t really think he would actually chose me. Luckily only one or two other people wanted the job and Paul seemed to like me the most.
Little did I know what was going on behind the scenes.
Don‘t we always assume things to be different?
I sure didn‘t expect to end up in this situation and I am still not sure whether I should be happy or breaking down in tears or just waiting for it all to end. Maybe this all really happened for a reason.
After Monica‘s death I stopped believing in it because I thought it was just a dream, a wish I had. But with her death, it all seemed like an illusion, not real and the world just like a dark place. Even though I still believe the world is a dark place, I now can believe in whatever is guiding me, more than ever before. I just have to. I just found my real parents, my real family. Sure not the way I would have wished it to be like. But nonetheless, otherwise I would have never found them, never met them, never talked to them. Thank you whatever you are, whatever is out there. Who ever you are, my guiding light.
— Paul‘s story –-
Drunken and angry. These are the two words I would use to describe my father. My mother always believed in God, at least she told me about him. Otherwise, she was just sitting there, working in the kitchen, cooked a little, often fast meals. She was very depressed I guess and my father, I don‘t know what happened to him. But after he came back from war, he turned into a lifeless machine. There were some rare moments, when I found him with some tears rolling down his cheeks. As soon as he saw me, he stopped and shouted at me or just walked away. I was still little when he went away as a soldier. He sometimes visited us until he one day got released from the army because he was not able to do the job anymore.
Probably PTSD when I think about it, but when I was little, I just knew, that he had changed, that everything changed and my world got grey, got darker each day.
So with eleven I started writing my own stories. At first they were happy, like fairy tales or just happy adventures. Probably to escape this dark and broken place I was in. While the years went by, the stories got darker and darker as well, until I couldn‘t really think positive anymore. I also started to get drunk by myself, moved out and somehow got some good sales for some of my books. Probably more luck than anything. I can‘t even remember some of the stories I wrote, too many and over all too dark. This book was my final story I thought. I wasn‘t able to focus on writing anymore. Couldn‘t think straight and always needed some glasses of Whiskey to keep me away from pain, but it also didn‘t work. How should it… still I was drinking and drinking.
Luckily I had this pretty cheap and old apartment I could rent. Otherwise I would probably be on the streets already. My father died last summer and my mother took an overdose from her sleeping pills she was taking since it all began. When my father still was a soldier. She even worked for some neighbors and did clean houses or things like that. My father couldn‘t do anything, wouldn‘t do anything. Except for watching TV, listening to the radio or just watching the walls. At least this is all I can remember him doing.
After his death my mother must have given up. I am sorry mom… But I just couldn‘t help you, I was too broken myself.
I hope you are in heaven now, the place you always wanted to be or at least in peace.
Without Anthony I would be dead by now. I just hope he is doing fine and whatever this guy, Igor is doing, they better do it right. I can‘t lose my friend, my only friend, just after I found him. The first real friend I ever had.
Pages 79 – 82 of Lines, words, letters.
Some positive vibes for the weekend. 🙂
Sorry for the ending, but I like the music. 🙂
Today is a good day again. I hope yours is too or gets better through out the day.