I think that my father always considered me as his brother, that's why maybe he was beating me so hard each time I destroyed his toys. The worst one was with a Disney Movie cassette that unfortunately or because I had to, I put with a leaflet about other cartoon together and then the whole system of video projection for an evening broke down. I sank under a cold water hold like a dog that now I work with, and sometimes I have to be also so determined with them as my father was at that day. I don't put them under the shower to remind them that you shall not destroy your fathers toys, but still sometimes I am quite rough to them. On the other hand I give them food and pet them and scratch and talk to them while cleaning their shit. So maybe all of us have their own shit and others have to clean it. I cleaned my father shit and dog shit. So who the fuck will clean my shit. Also me myself, or maybe it was already done by many women that I passed on my way. So what is the best solution to do? To give shit to others or keep it for yourself at the same time not cleaning others, becoming victim, becoming murderer, becoming yourself? So what about the mother that still thinks that at the age of fifty will give me a brother? Does she feel so guilty about those many boys in between me and my sister that have never seen the light of a day, but maybe saw much stronger light of almighty? Difficult to say, and for sure to late to think about having a brother, but why after twenty five years does she still feel guilty about it? Shall I clean her shit as well or just leave it where it is. And what about all the others unloved daughters, and girls that think that are women but actually small girls needing touching are waking up each time they see a man who smiles to them.


My psychologist told me, or I told to myself. It is enough. I don't want to carry anymore and I cannot. I can still go to mental hospital, still behave like maniac, still become a psychopat, but why shall I do it all. Just because I love or hate them too much or too little.

Why I cannot just live my life, being happy with my dog, admiring the fjord, talk to some random people on the street. Why do I have to now come back to the country I don't even remember, among the people I feel a stranger, why I have to merry this poor girl in the mountains and make her children. Only because my grandfather and my mother will be happy. And still they call me insane and mentally sick. Fuck, fuck, fuck........

And even I write this all I am completely calm, just had some thoughts while taking a hot bath with cold shower at the same time so just wanted to write it down, because I know that I have to disappoint many people to live my way free and happy.

There is actually mainly compassion that they cannot be happy and live their lives free.