Sunday, June 2


 I was lying in the bath contemplating with a glass of rosé mixed with orange juice and raspberries. I was thinking about my fears. You know the saying, that you are not paranoid if they're actually out to get you. Considering what happened ten years ago and how basically every person on planet turned against me, or revealed their true face. They no longer had to hide their hatred. It was officially accepted to openly hate me and manufacture any type of scenario that could hopefully kill, or at least harm me. Considering that, it is now impossible for me to trust anyone. Every time I stumble upon any difficulties in life, my fear stemming from those happenings create suspicions that the Belgium story is behind it. As in people using that story to hurt to me. This is something I must live with. You can't just walk away from something of that magnitude and think it was nothing, it's in the past, it can't hurt me anymore or if I lay it behind me everybody else will too. I have tried all those approaches. Still it comes back to haunt me. It's not the story in itself that fears me, but how people use it hurt me all the time. Who are these people you might ask? Well, listen to those using it and you will identify them. Those are really dangerous people. Because, if you run into the arms of a serial killer, if you think that is a safe place, then WHAT are you running from?

And I can tell you what I was running from. I was trapped in a small society that had blocked all the exits, pushed into a corner, ostracized from the job market and social community, and told I had no option to survive in this community unless I started to prostitute myself. That, was what I was running from. I refused to sell my body.

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