Death of the heart

I am just finishing my day at work. Last week I took part in a course for archivists together with my boss. Casually, there was also an ex high school mate of mine there, who is now archeologist. That triggered a lot of bad memories. I hate my ex class mates, I hate everything that has to do with high school and if I ever think back about that time, I would like to erase it from my memory and pretend I never lived it. She was quite nice, but always neutral. And as she sent me a Facebook friendship request I noticed that the whole high school class is on her list.

Is there a time in my life I would like to live again? At the end of elementary and then middle school I was a lonely, clumsy and rejected girl who was discovering her homosexuality without coming to terms with it. At high school I was totally alone, I had no friends and also the teachers hated me because I was no communist. Later on in my life I started a psychiatric career that led me to becoming a marginalized person, aggressive and in some situations even dangerous. I have started living again the very day I started studying communication sciences here, and the life that was before is just gone. I would like to have the right to forget. Even criminals have the right to oblivion. If you were convicted for a crime, once you served your sentence you are free, and you have the right to full reintegration. Well, this is what I claim. I never went criminal, even if I was very close to becoming a criminal more than once. Still, I have sometimes very bad flashbacks that trigger homicidal thoughts in my head, even if I have the situation fully under control. One of that trigger-episode was seeing my ex high school mate. Just a look on her face made my hands shiver and my mind become a blur.

If I could turn back the clock to zero, I would never let those people play games with me and walk all over me. I am proud of what I am. Now. I do not need anyone, I travel alone. Most important, I can command my heart. There is nobody, no woman and no man, who can make me lose my tenacity. I spent 10 years of my life loving the wrong woman, and 20 years of my life trying to catch the love of friends who never wanted to accept me. Now I know that I do not need friends and that a woman is good only if she is the right one. Kerstin was a drug and alcohol addict with a severely manipulative personality: she lied to me as much as she could and in the end she left me there with a bleeding heart after showing me her umpteenth girlfriend while I just wanted to love her and help her. I guess Kerstin is dead. So is my heart. She had contracted HIV after doing drugs with Maurice, a muscle-mountain who feared me because he had given Kerstin her first shot of heroine. He feared me. He is twice as big as me, he could kill me with a kick. He spent more time in prison than somewhere else. But back then he feared me. Well, somehow he killed Kerstin, and that is enough to say he will never be my best friend. But she chose her way on her own, and she preferred to do drugs than having a relationship with me. Heroine was more appealing.

With that being said, I will now shut down the computer for a couple of hours and then go on writing my thesis.