So on her first day of school mother felt she needed to have a litlle chat with Angeline: "Don't harm anyone, but if someone tries to hit you, hit them twice". The prescription seemed easy enough and also fair. At the same time, it carried a warning: outside, outside the bedroom, outside our house and our garden, there were all kinds of people, and some of them weren't playing around. They could hurt you. You needed to be prepared to fight back. Agressively.
So, how do you know when its safe?
Twenty years later, I still don't have an answer. I used to think it was all in your gut. That you simply felt it, although many times you couldn't explain it. And then it happenned: my gut messed up and there wasn't anything else to guide me. I didn't trust it anymore and that was when I started to loose myself.
Many times I think about that first day of school and how people seemed so scary. They still do. More than ever, they do. You feel like running away to a place where no one can harm you, but if that place existed, no one would love you either.
They say that 'some people build walls, not to keep others out, but to see who cares enough to break them down' and right now I hate the way I can relate to this idea. All the harm that anyone ever did to me seems to get heavier as time passes by and pilling up brick by brick around me.
I dream of water.
About 60 percent of the human body consists of water. I admire its lack of color and smell regarding it as if it were pure freedom while I try to remember that if I myself am nothing much but water, and that is out of my control, I still can decide at wich temperature it flows within me. Because one important thing that mom didn't tell me was that ice breaks easily, but water, it just flows.
