“Have fun” she said at least that’s what I read but how I’m supposed to do that if I’m embracing the dark side of me?
With a cup of herbal tea, I stumbled around early this morning through the White House.
While on my way I thought long and deep and figured out which government institutions could be closed down immediately.
No, I don’t have a dry mouth if I lie and cheat only get one if politicians, civil servants, relatives, friends and colleagues are mocking me because they truly believe I’m a stupid bird they can teach me how to speak like a parrot which is odd. After all, I am the one who will eliminate them one by one.
Suddenly, something slammed against the boat. First thought @myjob her big fish, second thought a Steemit dolphin or whale but it turned out to be a backpack. A _rugsack_ with something attached to it. I peered into the water and hoped to see more of what held the bag. Damned, it wasn’t something but someone. In a flash, I noticed the bold head. A familiar head. It was someone I knew and I never liked. What did he, my ex-brother in law and ex-boyfriend do in the water? I had no idea if he could swim but what I know was he was a drunk, drug addict and suffered from hallucinations. It was him who saw evil everywhere, hid behind cars if he saw his sister because she was the devil herself. It didn’t look good for me though. She wouldn’t be blamed for this but I would…for sure I would if I called the police. You only had to watch a crime to know the first suspect is the one who makes the call. I needed to think and decided to put the kettle on. It was what they did in those detective series too. Tea or a glass of water to calm down. Police would sniff around and ask questions about the backpack guy I had to answer. I sunk on my chair and thought hard. When was the last time I had seen him? Twenty or thirty years ago? Didn’t he leave abroad to find his inner something? I stood up and poked with my cane in the body that seemed to be stuck against my boat. “You shouldn’t have come back,” I murmured, “it took me long enough to pay off your debts and start a new life again.” I jabbed in the backpack and wondered for a moment what was in it.
“So that explains how you got involved with my newspaper, to begin with.” I nodded but kept my mouth shut. There was no reason to talk since I had written it all to the paper and they had made up the rest of the story around the ‘floating backpacker’. The police had bought it and apparently, no one had recognized him. Kind of strange his relatives didn’t show up and no one knew anything about this traveller. Hard to believe but not of my business. It was already bad enough my boat was damaged and taken by the police. Not that I used it for sailing but it was mine and I lived on it as soon as winter was over. It was an easy life and I loved the fact I didn’t need to cook or clean. All I did was watching the sunsets and enjoying my lazy life. A life I deserved after all the misery that I had overcome. It was a good life with a cheap lifestyle, one I could recommend to everyone as long as they didn’t moor next to my boat or let their dead bodies floating around here. Since I am a writer I had my typewriter moved with me. At times it’s good to have it at hand, to write what’s on one’s mind and that’s what I had done. I wrote a story to the paper and they had published it as I expected. Journalists are rare, cost too much. It’s easier to let readers write. It saves time and money and as a paper, you can still get famous by spreading the latest news. My news was good enough. I was offered to write a daily column which I refused. Once a week was good enough. Daily sounds too much like a job.
Did the police try to figure out what had happened? They conclude I had nothing to do with it and stated the cause of death was the coronavirus. Poking around turned to be more something I liked to do. They ignored the questions asked by the newspaper about his tattoos, didn’t blame me which was good nevertheless kept my boat longer than needed which meant I was back home and my only step outside was on the small balcony where the cat and I spend most of our time between the plants with my typewriter and the cane at hand.
“We better go inside,” I said to the cat, “before the rain is beating on the roof“.
He glanced at me and majestically walked inside while I took the typewriter and stumbled after him with my walking stick in my left hand.
“You met him too. How do you think he died?”
My cat licked his front paw and in his eyes, I read what had happened and how he got those scratches.
Was there ever such a great day, was there? Did my bare feet ever touch the ground, were flowers my shield and did Mother Nature embrace me?
I tell myself this was me indeed. It was me who cared, wanted to touch. I loved to kiss and cuddle so much, even hugged the tree with tumours in the backyard. So full of life, love, joy and with empathy and… I lost all of what once was me.
Reality Honestly? Four hundred and twenty-four days ago I was surrounded by bullies, threatened, raped, close to bankruptcy. The ugly introvert, nerd was ignored. Allergies, burn-out, tough life. Single, no caring husband or wife. Not greeted. No kisses, hugs or warm embrace. Loneliness… I was a big mess. Indeed I was in need.
I know no one ever listens to me. Eyes filled with hate remained blind. Envy. Daze for reality name negativity. Just like the world, my life and personality.
Negativity? I embrace the pandemic that doesn’t hurt me. Suddenly I am accepted, I count, am the same. No longer alone, all misery is gone. Finally, each one of us has to stay at home.