From mother’s womb to my father’s idea of home, I’ve lived, been loved, betrayed and manipulated and always sailing amid a storm. A thousand times I’ve thought of selling my soul to the devil, to know good from evil but I failed. Into the world, I was pushed, emotionally naked and physically vulnerable to predators pretending to be friends. I am educated and unskilled, leaned but lack knowledge and over-perform yet underachieve. I wear mediocrity to work and come back home with insecurities which push me into bed. A house of dreams built in the miracle street is an unrealistic dream and that’s everything I ever wanted. Dreams are real. There is hope lurking around the corners of every hour of this miserable existence and I vault over walls of falsities to avoid those.
And here we are:
Another day, another hour, more hopes and yet another tragedy.