Above image - "broken bottle in my heart" - URL: http://oxfordinciter.wordpress.com/2007/06/15/port-meadow-party-rubbish/
For respect, I don't want to fill the message box of a reader who wrote to me through FB, with my personal boring sufferance. He can read here the entire message.
* * *
Title
of message: "THIRTY SECONDS". Sub-title: "Are
sufficient thirty seconds to describe my path of sufferance, no one
believing in my words?"
[I
send to you this, so you could understand that there's very little
you can do for me].
I
cannot have peace. At job they sent to me a strange colleague with
whom I have problems. Did they send him just to stress me
psychologically? Then you return home, in the upper etage the old
parents, in your etage in your independence you are alone. It comes
the evening and is Saturday, you need to forget the week, and you
need to see the external world because alone at home it kills you.
You go in the bars, behind the border, in Slovenia, you try to find
another soul with whom to have a relation, a sentimental relation,
how you desired to have for all your life and you never had it, not
only physic one [practically in the entire my life I never had
pysical relations with women except a short two months relation I had
in 1990]. You find only the waitress who shows to know your life.
They know it, don't know how, telepathy or similar. They are like in
the movie "The body snatcher", they are parts of a single
body and communicate among themselves. Their usual behavioral pattern
is the same. First they seduce you. In fatc you are often desperate
and in depression and search even the waiter and especially the
waitress with whom to have at least THIRTY SECONDS of exchange of
human words. As my history is an history of loneliness, it is typical
for people LIKE ME WHO COULDN'T HAVE A NORMAL LIFE to search a contact
with the woman in the only possible place, the inns, the bars, pubs,
etc., for ONLY A BUNCH OF DAMNED SECONDS OF ILLUSORY LOVE,
TENDERNESS, ETC. WHAT YOU SEARCHED AND DESPERATELY NEEDED ALL THE
LIFE LONG IN ORDER TO STOP THE PAIN OF THOSE SHARP GLASS PIECES OF BROKEN BOTTLE
INSIDE YOU. They cultivate your depression, your needs of a
partner/love/tenderness. Then, after they elaborated your sentiment,
they destroy it with a sudden change of humor. It is typical, a
typical pattern, I know they do that purposely to destroy me. There's
a perfect regularity in that. Alluding to love, showing EROTIC
BEAUTY, and then destroy the allusion/illusion AND THE EMBRYO OF
SENTIMENT. CONTINUING PSYCHIC WATER-BOARDING TORTURE. I don't know HOW
I RESISTED TILL THIS SAD DAYS. It is not strange that then it grows
inside you suicidal-homicidal feelings, when then you ride your car
alone in a total desperation. Sometimes I drove the car all the night
long crying river of tears, probably a Guinness, a record. Don't know
what or Who (the Lord?) sometimes keeps fixed my hands on the
steering wheel when I am tempted to accelerate the car to kill me
(and whom I encounter in my death path) suddenly changing the lane at
maximum speed with a car crash. Often I say that "AFTER ALL WHAT
I SUFFERED I AM ASHAMED TO HAVE NOT FOUND THE DECISIVE COURAGE TO
KILL MYSELF". Some evenings, when the darkness of the evening
comes, often I live like in those horror films with the zombies
encircling the house at the first hour of the night. The zombies are
the memories, the records of my entire life which EMERGES in the
night and don't leave me in peace, they torture me. The memory of my
suffering [RELATIONAL AUTISM?] in painful episodes of twenty years
ago, of the adolescence thirty and more years ago, or the last water-boarding session by that woman just yesterday evening in that
pub. I am finished and I'm waiting the moment when I'll settle the
score with my life. How do you think it is possible I could have
energy to devolve to my past activity/blogs? I hope this moment is
near.
Mr. XYZ, Thanks
for having devolved some of your time and energy to me, even if I consider to not be worth of such efforts - Best regards.
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Yes, I remain an opponent to the immigration, but this doesn't mean that I cannot feel more human empathy with the life of such African immigrates than the one of self claimed 'Christian' 'advanced' white Caucasians of the North hemisphere. The message of Christ is universal, not the papacy and the Roman 'catholicism'. I can develop empathy for the victims of such sad stories, because often can understand with my heart the significance of "being treated like an animal":
".......Yesterday marked the anniversary of Saatije Baartman’s remains finally being returned to Africa from the French government after 200 years. (May 6, 2002)
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sarah_Baartman
Sarah was a slave to Dutch owners taken to Europe and put on display like an animal. Lovely poem by Diana Ferrrus.....".
http://womenoftheafricandiaspora.com/2012/05/08/may-6-marked-the-anniversary-of-saatije-baartmans-remains-finally-being-returned-to-africa-from-the-french-government-after-200-years/
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