Would you’ve turned around?

Once you step into a jab centre you made up your mind. You will take that jab for a reason. Your motive. You might want to go out, visit a pub or restaurant, want to travel or go to a festival. You do not take that injection because you deeply care about all those unknown elderly people or the vulnerable. If you take that jab you do it for yourself. That shot gives you hope. The hope to go to the cinema, the hope to enter a shop or in some cases to keep your job. You go for it because you do not dare to say: I pass. Sorry, I’m not a genuine pig I won’t participate in this experiment I care about my health.

If it’s your turn you don’t dare to ask if there are side effects or if it will kill you. The idea might pop up but you ignore these thoughts. If you wait 15 minutes and nothing happens you’ll be alright. Besides all those others took it so why not you? Why should it harm you, after all, you are a good person.

There’s no need to think it over. Why should you think about insurances that might not pay out if there would be a side effect worse than a painful spot? Why should you be one of those few with bad luck? Why should anyone get paralyzed or no longer be able to work or practice sport?
You don’t reread the contracts between you and the insurance companies stating you are not allowed to take part in an experiment. Why should you if the government guarantees if something goes wrong you can knock on their door and they will solve all your health and financial issues?

There’s no need to ask yourself why Moderna, J&J, AstraZeneca or all the others who swear their vaccine is safe and makes you immune refuse to pay if any harm is done. Your head already spins of all those different opinions and stories made up.
Why should you break your brains about the fact politicians, ministers, kings, queens, VIPs, doctors, virologists and all those consultants are not taking the shot?
There’s no reason to doubt about the fact only 3 “scientists” are allowed to spread the news.

Why bother about unvaxxed children abandoned from school? Children who have to follow lessons outside while it’s winter. Children who have to undress in the freezing cold before they can enter the swimming pool. Why should you care? The only one to blame is the parent who refuses to let his child be jabbed for the sake of…

That’s sake is the question. A question no one can answer. Children will not die of any variant of the coronavirus. Not one single child did during the past two years. By now we know the injections do not protect against spreading any virus. Those who are injected and take booster after booster still live in fear.
If these shots don’t stop spreading a virus, do not make you immune, the side effects harm and kill more people than co-vi-d did why should you take it? To go out and spread the virus? To visit the elderly and put them in danger? To travel abroad and end up in quarantine? To give a good example to your children? If this is the case I wonder what all those children will say about their parents. Perhaps not now but in five, ten, fifteen or twenty-five years. Will they be proud of their folks and say: You did a great thing and saved us, the world?

Will disabled people still exist or will healthy people be a rarity?
No matter what the scenario will be healthcare in the nearest future will no longer be available for the minority. Sick, disabled people are a burden to each society and not only for parents or children who have to deal with it. In the future, there won’t be money for healthcare. It’s even questionable if there are good, trustworthy doctors, nurses, caretakers left. People who won’t kill you with one injection or pill because you are no longer needed.

Would it have made any difference if the one who gave you that jab had informed you about all the health dangerous risks you take? The site howbad.info didn’t exist yet as this experiment started but if you couldn’t have consulted it before you received that jab and without your lot number.

Imagine if those who gave the injections would have informed everyone. Would they have asked what a seizure or paralysed person looks like? Would they have stepped out of that line, turned around and gone back home? Would you if they told you you would be infertile or dead in 2023? Would you’ve changed your mind if they informed you objectively and told you you have over 85% to get harmed and your natural immune system will never function again? I don’t think so.

Indeed all those who didn’t inform each client they injected about the risks of joining medical experiments committed a crime. It is against the law and if done on purpose (in this case it is) it’s a crime. This indeed means every vaccination centre is a crime scene. Crime scenes should be investigated. Being vaccinated with an experimental injection is no law. It is what they did in concentration camps during the second world war. It is against the Nürnberg code! Since no government changed the law this means you lined up out of your own free will.
I believe if you would have been informed you still would have taken that injection because you trust a company like AstraZeneca who has been sued more than once and your fear lead you.  You would have ignored what the doctor said. How do I know? Because many great doctors, specialists, virologists and scientists said so. They informed and warned about what could happen. They were laughed at, scolded at and reported by their patients, removed on social media and called conspiracy terrorists by colleagues, the media and you.

The bitter truth is these “conspiracy terrorists” turn out to be right. After (more than) two years of predicting what would happen, telling us how we would be fooled, fall for the lies, how easily we would let ourselves be divided readily to fight and blame the opposite, we still think the next shot will save our life. We still believe we go back to normal while our impatience increases. In the meanwhile, we fear those we harmed, those we blamed for our (bad) choices and misery, our lack of courage. The anxiety for what the new normal will bring eats us but most of all we worry about the consequences of our deeds.

I believe 2022 will be the year of truth. Perhaps not the year of justice and tribunals about crimes committed against humanity but the truth will be known.
No way we go back to normal but hopefully, we build a new normal together. A normal build on trust with love, energy and hope for the future. A chance for our children, the next generation without the shame we brought over them by our behaviour, lack of courage.
The only way to do so is by staying strong, united and taking responsibility for our own deeds instead of making excuses of why we did what when and for which reason. The only thing that counts is we show and spread love and do our best from now on.

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#kittywu #covid #newnormal #future #life #conspiracy #humanity #jab #injection

Why?

Forgotten, dead and buried.

Out of bed at 6 am and cleaning my room. Why do I have to push the bed in the middle of the room and lift all small furniture on it every day so it’s easier for her vacuuming? Just like me, the vacuum cleaners in our house never has a day off. It’s 6 o’clock and I’m already super tired. I didn’t sleep much and don’t think it will get any better. My mother kept screaming and I tried not to hear her. It’s hard. The walls are not keeping her voice out. I can hear children playing outside, my mother’s car if she arrives in the street, the neighbour playing drums and Bart making music. He lives next to our neighbours. If I can hear all these sounds people can hear her too.
Breakfast with my parents at seven, breakfast in silence a choking silence. I’m never allowed to speak so that isn’t new but usually my parents do. I should say my mother is. She’s the one who talks, talks, talks, repeats herself and repeats herself and repeats herself and tells you to repeat what she said which I can’t. So I keep my mouth shut which makes her furious. If I try to repeat what she said I can’t remember the exactly right words. The thing is she always says the same so after the first words I shut down. I close my ears and try not to hear her. I eat my bread and focus on my plate, on eating. I don’t want to hear her voice. She rattles on and on and on it’s always the same. How great she is, how ungrateful others are, blah blah blah.

Why don’t I have a normal mother? A mum like Ellen, Louis or Françoise has? A mother with a normal voice who lets you play with other children instead of punishing you for everything she can think of? I watch dad slicing cheese for his bread. If he doesn’t answer she will attack him. He never needs to repeat what she says. I wonder how auntie is doing. She no longer visits us. Will she go to grandmother if it’s Christmas?
I don’t want to hear her voice but it fills the kitchen. If I close my eyes I hear that voice everywhere around me.

Why did dad marry her? Did she ever say a sweet thing or was it her dad’s money? Grandpa is dead. There won’t be money for him. He’s no family but the man my grandparents never wanted for their daughter. Dad doesn’t look very happy. Perhaps he will sing if he cleans the bathroom and kitchen?
Her hand smacks me in the face. My head slams against the wall. “Are you sleeping again? Stand up, you lazy kid. No one is as lazy as you. Why don’t you comb your hair!” All I can do is stare at her. I have nothing to say. Whatever I would say isn’t good enough to make her forget her anger, make her like me. I try not to touch my face or head while I look her straight into the eyes. She looks at me, observes me, waits till I say something. She turns around abruptly and slams the door behind her.
“Get up you’ll be fine,” dad says. He didn’t help me. He gave up risking his neck for me. “Let’s clean up the place before your mother is back.” He starts cleaning up the breakfast table and I go back upstairs. The rooms, stairs and hallways, toilet and living room are my task. No polishing shoes today. I don’t know who will vacuum since she isn’t there. If she comes back at the end of the day she’ll be mad because the house is a mess. That’s how she calls it a mess.

I don’t feel like cleaning. Everything is clean. I pile up the small furniture on the beds in each room. I clean doors and doorknobs and wipe the dust not a single person can see. In each room, I wait till the time is over. The time it takes to clean a room to her standards. I don’t hear her, I don’t hear her car. It’s silent till dad comes upstairs and starts singing while he cleans the bathroom. I clean the toilet. Tile after tile. Another door on which I’m not going to spend 33 times scrubbing on.

How many times did I step outside to knock the dust out of the duster?

The living room is the only place where furniture can remain at its place on Saturdays. It’s clean like always. The Christmas tree is still outside. Will she be back to decorate it? I sit on the floor and wait. My head hurts. I touch the spot. Blood. She’ll be mad if there’s blood on the furniture or carpet but I have to lay down.
Dad comes downstairs and I hear him enter the kitchen. Later I’ll tell him I finished my tasks. I like to listen to the sound of the clock. Dad sings again.

Dad told me to help him to set up the tree in the living and he put the lights on. The smell of the tree fills the air. Shocked I was as I looked at the floor. A trace of needles everywhere from the living through the hallway and kitchen. “We’ll vacuum it before your mother is back, after that we get the boxes with decoration,” dad said. It felt as if he had everything under control and no longer cared about what she would say or do.
“No hiking today?”
“No, it’s vacation. Dad… I don’t want to go hiking ever again.”
“I know.”

The day didn’t end too bad. The bakery delivered boxes with bread, cookies, cakes, a Christmas loaf and chocolates. My mother came home with bags with stuff she bought and decorated the tree. It took her hours because it has to be perfect. She made a mess again and vacuumed the living three more times. She didn’t say sorry or look at me. I stood there and watched her. Unsure if I was allowed to leave or had to wait for a new order. She let me put some ‘angel’s hair’ on the ranks. It looks nice but it hurts if you touch it. The tree looks beautiful all silver with white of the ‘hair’ and the yellow big candle lights. My mother knows how she has to decorate a tree, furniture a house and how to spend too much money.

Saturday
December 18, 2021


I visited Sunday school and my parents went to church. If I don’t comb my hair straight you can’t see the blood on my head. It’s cold so I wear a hat outside. The teacher didn’t notice it.

Sunday
December 19, 2021


No school, no housekeeper just me and my mother cleaning. To my mother, it’s an ordinary Monday. She works 24/7 and if she doesn’t work we clean. In the morning we start cleaning till she has to go. She leaves if someone calls her or if she visits people at their homes. She visits in the afternoon. A few evenings a week people visit us. Dad says he has things to do. He left.

I don’t like staying home during vacations. Vacations at home are good for more cleaning, scolding, whipping and pain. That’s all it’s good for.

In the evening I’m allowed to sit in the living and watch the tree. The living is for weekends only. I spend the most time in my room or the kitchen if I’m not at school and have to clean the house.

Monday
December 20, 2021



The living is in the Christmas mood my mother isn’t. Her mood goes up and down. I’ll never know what she will say or do next. I don’t trust her and am glad I don’t need to share a bed with her like dad. If she kills him who takes care of me?

Tuesday
December 21, 2021


On television is more Christmas spirit than at home. I’m afraid of my mother. She acts weird. Dad says nothing and stays in the little room upstairs. She keeps walking up and down while saying the same words over and over again. Can’t she just sit down for a moment and act like a normal person?
I try to watch telly but it’s hard with her around. She can snap any minute. We didn’t have tea yet. I leave and hide on the toilet and try to think about what to do. I can put the kettle on and make us some tea. I go ask dad if he likes some tea.
Back downstairs I fill the kettle with water and put it on the cooker and wait. I wait at the kitchen table and try not to touch more things than necessary. My mother always knows if something is touched, moved. It’s good enough for the next scene. Why is she walking up and down? Is she crazy?
I fill the teapot and a dad’s mug. I’ll give him first before I ask her. Back in the hallway I no longer hear her voice behind the door in the living. Should I enter or drink my tea first? I knock on the door and carefully open it. She stands in front of the tree.
“Mother do you want some tea?”
She turns around stares at me as if I’m a stranger.
“Yes,” she says and follows me to the kitchen.
“Take some cookies.” We sit at the table and she pushes the wooden cookie box over the tablecloth towards me. The madness disappeared.

Wednesday
December 22, 2021

Today felt like a better day. I read the book school gave me again and my mother was in a chocolate mood. She ate a lot of chocolate and butter cookies. Not if it’s coffee time or tea time but just so. I don’t like the butter cookies and chocolate she buys. It’s made by the baker. Grandmother’s chocolate is better. She buys small bars of chocolate with hazelnut or Koetjes bars (the wrap is blue-white with a cow on it). Always five wrapped together. I don’t think she eats them. It’s for the visitors, sometimes she gives me one. It’s the only sweet my grandmother has in the cupboard. My mother’s cupboards are filled and one huge drawer of the antique cabinet is for cookies, cakes, chocolate, pastries only. Perhaps her mother never gave her candy?

Thursday
December 23, 2021


At 5:30 I’m out of bed. The laundry will be collected and the clean laundry taken back. We have enough sheets for at least twelve beds.
My mother started the day in a good mood but halfway through the day, it changed after grandmother called. Tomorrow we will visit grandmother and the next day granny. Each year with Christmas it’s the same routine. Granny cooks too but we never had Christmas dinner with her.

At midnight we visited the church. It was crowded and I couldn’t sit anywhere. I don’t like to be in a cold church in the middle of the night and listen to a story I already know. A story about the hope for peace, love and light. Peace, love and light? Try to live with my mother for a week or better month and all the hope and dreams you had are gone. If you are lucky you get out sane. Jesus is lucky his mother isn’t like mine or perhaps he’s not. With a mother like mine you wish you were dead. If no one believes you, everyone is blind for what she does there’s no reason to stay alive. What is a lifelong scolding and beating worth? Even in church, I hear her voice. That voice is always in my head. It’s hard not to change into that man Norman Bates. He knows how it is if you can’t escape out of your mother’s claws. Jesus didn’t rescue either did god. It is as it is. If there’s a plan for everything it means God doesn’t care and he won’t come to your rescue. He wants you to suffer. I don’t believe that old man preaching. He says what they all say but never talks about real life, real suffer and pain.

Happy to be home back in bed even my bed is cold.

Friday
December 24, 2021


Not much sleep. Out of bed at 6 am.
Merry Christmas… I’ve watched a film on television. Grandmother doesn’t have a tree. Auntie and my new uncle came for having Christmas dinner with us. Soup, goose, dessert and coffee with apple pie. I like grandmother’s dining table and chairs. The legs are claws of an animal. We didn’t sleepover. My mother was angry and granny was too. Dad drove us back home. Tomorrow I will see granny. A long drive in the car again. The light of the star of Bethlehem in front of our window was on. Welcome home.

Saturday
December 25, 2022


It was good to see granny is still alive. My uncle was home and another uncle came with his wife and children. I don’t really know them just my uncle. I like him most of all uncles I have.
We ate nothing special but it doesn’t matter. I can’t eat much anyway. Again soup, rice and beans and meat and chocolate custard. We had coffee and cake and I helped granny do the dishes. I like her gas heater and watched it burn. No one talks to me. Uncle didn’t stay long. My other uncle can be a bully and hates my mother and the adults talk to or fight with each other. It doesn’t matter if it’s Christmas or not. There’s no love, no hope, no light wherever we go.

Sunday
December 26, 2021

Days pass by. The tree is the only light in the darkness even if it loses its needles. My mother waters it daily. I think it’s too warm inside and it starves. What is cut dies. It will be hard to get it out of here.
Mother gave me chocolate wreaths at tea time. She sang. I hope she isn’t up to something bad again. Dad visited uncle G. He never takes me over there. I’m not sure if my mother was there. I think she likes him somehow. She doesn’t like people and never forbids me to take his candies.

I had to come along with her as she visited the people. I felt bored and it’s cold in the car if she doesn’t drive. The car makes me sick and it takes long before she comes back if she visits someone. Why do I have to sit and wait in the car? Why?

Wednesday
December 29, 2021

Tomorrow we visit grandmother again. She’ll bake oliebollen and apple beignets. I like the apple beignets most of all.

I didn’t need to clean that much and was allowed to go outside. It’s not so cold. No snow. It doesn’t feel like Winter. I didn’t know what to do or where to go to. I watched some children play and met Ellen. We searched for coins on the paths behind the row of houses where she lives and followed the path to where I live. Some mothers were outside frying oliebollen just like last year. It makes it smell nice outside.

Thursday
December 30, 2021



Laundry day. The last day of the year. No illusions it will get any better. My mother won’t change into a beautiful fairy if the clock strikes twelve. She will be ugly on the inside forever sneaky, mean, violent.
At 10 o’clock she received a phone call. She sounded agitated finished her coffee with cake and went to her room. She had to do her hair and makeup first which takes hours. She called for me and my task was to check her hair. She doesn’t need me she has 4 mirrors plus doesn’t believe what I say anyway. It took and took and those people called again which made her angry with me. Finally, she left. I felt relieved, cleaned up everything and took another cup of tea. I put the dishwasher on. It’s not difficult and I know we won’t leave if she finds tasks to be done. Dad left. I hope he is back home before her. I’m not sure what to do. I checked every room if it’s clean. My mother hates dust and dirt and every single item needs to be right at its spot. Should I vacuum the stairs an extra time? I walked the steps she can see it on the carpet.
I vacuum underneath the tree and sit on the floor with a dustcloth in my hand. It’s better not to touch anything. She doesn’t only see footsteps but fingerprints everywhere too. I hug the dogs but can’t feed them. If they come with us in the car they feel sick too. If they eat they vomit and make my mother furious too.

She arrived late. Dad bought us something to eat. She didn’t say anything, didn’t complain about what the house looked like. Dad drove us to grandmother. I think grandmother was angry. She said she waited for us the whole day.
“Shut up woman,” my mother answered angrily, “you know I have to work.”

If I would only think these words she would wash my mouth with soap and best me to death.

“You could have called.” Grandmother looks at dad but he doesn’t answer.

I went upstairs to the room in the attic. Three long stairs. For New Year’s Eve, we always dress up. Black suit for men and women and girls wear a long dress or skirt. I don’t know why because no one takes a picture and we don’t go outside to wish the neighbours a happy new year. It’s the first thing we do the next morning.
So long dress it is just to drink hot chocolate, eat oliebollen and wait till it’s midnight. No one plays with me, talks to me or cares if I’m joining them in the front living room. They watch a show about the past year. I don’t know if I should laugh or cry. I have no clue what is talked about on the telly. Grandmother put bowls with oliebollen and apple beignet on the dining table in the back living room. No one cares how many I’ll eat. They are there to be eaten and if the bowls are empty there are more, way more in grandpa’s office.

Champagne, happy New Year wishes, fake kisses. Firework outside and on television. I don’t like champagne or coffee. All I drink is tea and on rare occasions hot chocolate or hot milk if I am staying with grandmother.

In my bedroom, I watch the firework up in the sky through the small window. I can see the colours while I’m in bed. Tomorrow everything will be back to normal. My normal which isn’t something to be happy with. The Christmas spirit is already dead and buried. I don’t have anything else to achieve other than staying alive till I find a way to get out of here.

Friday
December 31, 2021

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The crowd

Unexpected a big crowd showed up in Amsterdam. The demonstration was cancelled by the mayor because the police/ME would strike. Without police/ME no one can keep all those people safe.

What the mayor didn’t know is she cannot forbid demonstrations. Two people decided to have coffee and the rest -ten thousand people or more- decided to have a coffee too.

The police were present and told everyone to go into a certain street. They did, the crowd followed the orders and guess who was waiting for them? The crowd was trapped in the alley from both sides.

Striking? Again this was a set-up of the police with help of the mayor. Some policemen can use some anger management or better be sacked. Using sticks and dogs on people who pass by, those who already lay flat on the ground is not done.

It happened in The Hague, Amsterdam and so on. Already on January 2,  2022, the police showed its true colours. If the police don’t keep the people safe perhaps we should stop paying their wages.

About 50+ veterans present protected the people and the police. The police attacked them.

Veterans attacked and under fire

The police/ME was told to leave by their superior nevertheless they kept attacking and beating up young and old. Dogs were literally thrown on people and forced to bite.

Mauled by police dogs and beaten up

Demonstration January 2, 2022 – Amsterdam

Demonstratie Amsterdam (compilatie)

Please, scroll down. Underneath the text you find more videos about what happened.

Police attacks peaceful protestors first

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#kittywu #january #amsterdam #veterans #stopthenonsense

Good cop, bad cop

This expression I heard for the first time in a film. It doesn’t mean the police in the Netherlands doesn’t use this trick to frame people although, they always promote themselves as the good guy. ‘That cap fits everyone’ is one of the slogans they once hoped to attract more people with. Most people know ‘the police isn’t your best friend’ (another slogan) which makes joining those uniforms tough especially if you don’t agree with what presently is going on.
The police only want the best of the best unless they are criticized, out of money and take low educated immigrants to control their fellows. The government always ignored the fact more police is needed. The expression ‘more blue on the streets’ was never realized. If the police are needed they never show up.

Today we finally see more blue nearly everywhere. Most blue are not police officers in uniform but BOAs. Not everyone can be a cop but everyone can be a BOA. The training is short, the education doesn’t matter but wearing uniforms is possible, so is commanding others and arresting innocent people and end all fun.
As soon as police and BOA can’t take care of whatever is needed the ME will take over. Even more than the police, they love to beat up innocent people, use water cannons, sticks and dogs.  It doesn’t matter if people just watch, pass by or surrender and lay on the street to be handcuffed. They keep kicking and hitting while they force a trained dog to attack and bite in their throats.

Welcome to the Netherlands. The country where politicians always know better, point with a finger at other nations. Just to be clear: we Dutch people do not all agree but can also not get rid of these puppets. Since the elections of March 2021, they reign on and made clear they don’t care about anyone. We know they are the puppets used for a ‘higher goal’ whatever that goal may be but that doesn’t mean they did not choose to do the job. They do it for power, fame, they love to dictate and do not have the courage to say: Forget about it. This is so wrong.

Do I feel pity for all those policemen who claim they have too much work? No, I don’t. Most of those active policemen love the fact they are in control. Those BOAs aren’t any different. What many of them do isn’t different from what the NSB did 80 years ago. If there’s so much aggression, violence is shown by a person against a peaceful protester this says everything about what we call ‘de aard van het beestje’ (a person’s character). As long as the protester isn’t black no one cares, no one gives a damn. Shouldn’t that be a sign to be alert?

If it comes to protestors I wonder how come in a multicultural country like the Netherlands mainly Dutch people fight for freedom. Kind of strange if you take into consideration that most immigrants stated their life was at stake, they fled because they lost every right and above all their freedom. If freedom, a life in a free tolerant country without hate being spread and security count why not stand on the barricades? Aren’t these people the first ones able to recognize how dictatorship, fear and hate spread among people and genocide starts? Do they expect others to fight for their rights and freedom again?
Can be but after I read some letters today about what people learned in 2021 that chance is small.

https://rumble.com/vrt65a-police-beat-back-covid-mandate-protestors-in-amsterdam.html

‘If a door is closed God opens a window’ a window of opportunities to those who use it to get out. There’s a world outside, a better one for all those people willing to reunite. No matter what ‘they’ say, how much fear ‘they’ spread that new great world already started and that better world isn’t the great reset.

Who joins? All kinds of people. Doctors, teachers, virologists, bakers, farmers, caretakers, butchers, plumbers, artists, lawyers, journalists, judges, young and old and even police officers who don’t agree with the violence used by their (former) colleagues. These are creative strong people with courage and skills aware of what they want. They have something in common and are willing to invest in a healthy, better life.

Indeed it’s scary to start something new but it’s exciting too. All those scapegoats pointed at…many of them already made that new start. Their life improved in 2021. New challenges, new friends, prepared for a blackout (no electricity), a different life but not necessarily a bad one.

It depends on what your norms and values are, what is most important to you what that new life will look like. To some it’s a lifestyle filled with high tech that will protect them, to others, it’s being one with mother nature and responsibility for their deeds even if this means a life without high security, police, BOA or ME.

Is polarization the new normal?
I think this is what ‘they’ -with help of the mainstream media- want us to believe. If a message is repeated the brain starts believing it’s true and behaviour changes.
Many of us know how it feels to be different, not being accepted, bullied, being the scapegoat. Divide and reign is the slogan of each dictator. It’s easy to make the mass believe each lie told, to set up, play good cop bad cop and make people hate each other. If people fight each other they no longer see what’s going on for real. Once anxiety takes over there’s no room for the mind to doubt, to wonder or question what is the plan behind the ‘reason’.

Whatever you decide. It doesn’t matter if you fight, dance or stay home but please, don’t take freedom and other people for granted. Once you gave up on the right to speak, to travel, to read and watch what you like there won’t be a way back. Keep in mind no dictator will give up on power, feel mercy with those he dictates and will kill with a snap of his finger. You might need the help of other people.

NSB – Nationaal-Socialistische Beweging (National Socialist Movement a political party that changed into Nazism and helped the Germans. A NSB-er is a traitor.)

BOA – Buitengewoon Opsporings Ambtenaar (special investigating officer)

ME – Riot police

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#kittywu #politics #life #norms #values

The face in the mirror

My face hurts and I feel something is wrong. If I feel what I feel now I know it will be swollen soon. I’m in bed and that’s the only good thing. On the hiking trip, I still felt fine. It started at home after I had soup and bread, bread with honey. The smell of that dry honey already makes me vomit.
At 7 pm it’s bedtime for me so I was happy. I can’t help scratching and feeling itchy and my mother hates me if I do. The sheets feel cold, my feet are very cold. Dad says I suffer from Winter’s toes and that’s why they look blue and hurt. I think my toes suffer from more. The shoes, hiking and hammertoes. My feet are not made for walking.
The cold sheets feel good against my burning face though. I have a pot of cream left. I can’t use it. It smells terrible and only makes it worse. Since I no longer visit a doctor I think I better throw it away. If I find a way I will. I won’t ever use it again. All those doctors never helped or cured me they just did something. The same is something they do with others. People who are sick for different reasons. I wonder why anyone wants to be a doctor. I need to sleep now. My eyes hurt too and I can’t write if I don’t see what I’m doing. I can’t fall asleep before I hid this diary. I hear my mother scream downstairs. Are my parents fighting again? It makes me nervous if I hear her voice. It makes it harder to fight the pain. Tomorrow I’ll be the ugly monster again.

Saturday
November 27, 2021


I don’t look too good. I think I look how I feel. Dad said I better stay home. No Sunday school for me. My mother left after I served her breakfast in her room. No matter how sick I am I have to work. I try not to scratch, not to cry for pain, not to rub. If I blink my eyes, try to drink, eat or speak the pain is worse. I wish I was never born. I hate my life, my hate my body. It always hurts.

Sunday
November 28, 2021


My mother sent me to school. She doesn’t care about how I feel. She said I skip school too much. The only times I don’t go to school is if she did beat me up. If she beat me up and what she did cannot be hidden by my clothes.
It was hard to concentrate at school. That stupid girl Petra is a bully. She always takes me. The teacher says that name of her means rock. Rock? A rock you can build on. I think he means she throws rocks at other people. I think it means a traitor, a mean person. That is what Peter in the bible was to. A traitor, a liar, a person who would throw rocks at Jesus and say: I don’t know you.

Monday
November 29, 2021

Only a few more nights and the Saint will visit us at school. Some children are afraid of him. I’m not. I think he is kind because he gives presents and never is angry. My mother is a more scary person. I will not tell that to those children. They won’t believe me anyway. Those children who do never visited me again. They don’t play with me at school.

Tuesday
November 30, 2021


The pain is still there. I can feel my skin but the pain in my body too. It’s hard to explain what I feel. I think what makes me sick is inside of me. I wish I could pee it out. I don’t want to be in pain forever. I don’t want to live in this body forever. It doesn’t feel as if it is mine.
I climbed on the stool in the bathroom so I could look into the mirror. What I saw in the mirror that can’t be me! I don’t recognize that face. It can’t be me. I blinked, closed my eyes for longer but as I opened my eyes that strange face still looked at me. I felt shocked and fell off the stool. I placed it back next to the sink. Back in my room, I sat on my bed. What had happened to my face, what happened to me? Who’s that stranger looking at me in the mirror? I’ll never watch in the mirror again. From now on I keep my eyes closed.

Wednesday
December 1, 2021


All I know is I must have fallen asleep. My diary is crinkled, some pages torn but nothing is missing. It’s not like last time. That time she threw away my diary and I started again. This time with two different ones. One she will search for and read, the other I write and hide better, somewhere else or carry with me if possible. I don’t know what happened. Did I do this? It’s hard to believe. I took the pages and puzzled them together. All pages are there. At least I believe they are. I take the risk and will take my diary with me to school. I know it’s not safe. I know that girl Petra will try to take it away from me if I let her. I will fight back if needed. No one helps me anyway. The teacher never does. They don’t care who’s bullied or discriminated against. Just when I’m in the class with the teacher I feel safe. Not because the teacher sees everything or helps kids like me but because all children like him. They fight for his attention. I think the girls are in love with him. He’s the only not old teacher and his hair is long plus he plays musical instruments. All sorts of. I don’t think the principal likes him. The principal is a mean old man. The kind of man you only read about in books. He looks like one of those men of the Inquisition the teacher told us about during history class. Just his belly is way more swollen. His pair of trousers is underneath that terrible belly. I don’t like it if the man comes close and that belly touches me. I don’t want that man to touch me at all. He hits me if he’s in a bad mood. I think teachers are allowed to but I’m not sure. The teacher, that old teacher Mrs Mulder always hit us with a pointer stick. It’s a flexible one so that hurts and it won’t break easily.
My parents hit me too. My mother uses whatever she can find. In most cases, it’s the whip, the mat beater made of pulp cane, or the dogs’ leashes which are chains or leather. It all hurts but if she tells me to get the leash I take the heavy chain. The heavy chain has a large heavy carabiner. If she hits me with it the carabiner will hit her back. She never hits me with her bare hands either does my father. He uses his leather slippers. Those slippers Saint Nicholas gives him. If the Saint doesn’t my mother does then it will be my dad’s birthday present. My parents don’t care if they hit me. They don’t care if I have bruises all over and have to stay home. My mother uses the iron stool to hit me on the head, she uses her high heels and throws whatever is within her reach to my head. The pot with peanut butter empties the pan with soup over my head. She scolds, yells at me, ties me up in bed and locks me into the room without something to eat or drink. She hopes I will die since I’m always sick and the source of all misery in her life. Everything is my fault. Me being born ruined her life. While she tells me this all, I hear my bones crack and my ears make a strange sound I wonder how come it makes her mad if the principal hits me. The anger that old man has inside, his hate against me and his violence… It’s bad but not as bad as what she does to me. Because of her I hardly dare to sleep. She will kill me.

Thursday
December 2, 2021

Yesterday I went to the gym but I no longer want to do it. There are too many places I don’t want to be because I feel unsafe.

Piet was on the school’s roof during the break. The children of the Catholic school next to ours came to our part of the schoolyard too. They push us away and grab the candies away Piet throws at us. It’s hard to find something. I’m not like the other children. I won’t push or fight for candies. I pick it up if it falls in front of my feet or let it be. Some children have their pockets filled with pepernoten, all sorts of candies. They brag and don’t share with the others but the teacher does. One by one we have to step forward and he gives us a handful. Do you know what I hate? Because of my name, I’m always the last one. It’s the same with the Saint. No one is interested if you are the last one in a row. Adults are tired, children want to go home and play with their toys. The Saint and Piet are in a hurry because our school isn’t the only one they visit. For a moment I felt afraid the Saint would call me. I don’t like to sit on his lap and sing a song. I like his beard but I think beards are dirty. Food, cookie crumbs and spit are in it. How does he wash that beard? If you only comb your hair it gets dirty too.
So no sitting on a lap for me. I’m happy about that since my bottom and back already hurt enough.

The school gave us a hot chocolate and after that, we were sent home. Usually, we have school in the afternoon but not if the Saint visits the school. I have a chocolate letter and a book so I’m good. On my way home I ate the candies. I’m not in a hurry. It’s only a five-minute walk and home with my mother is the last place where I want to be.

From the kitchen, I heard her singing. Singing while she vacuumed the living room. I wasn’t sure where to go to so I waited in the kitchen where the housekeeper cooked our meal. She didn’t greet me and as it was ready she told me to tell my mother. At least she sounded as if she was in a good mood.
She talked a lot while we ate the terrible meal. My mother cooks way better even I can. Why doesn’t she cook instead of vacuuming all the carpets for hours? I didn’t say a word because talking is not allowed during the meals. Before and after the meal we prayed and I did as if I listened to my mother who read from the Bible. I have no idea what she talked about. If you ask me she and the housekeeper do not either. It’s just a habit. A habit no one cares about or has any benefits of. Good Christians don’t live in this house either good people. God knows and Saint and Piet too.

Friday
December 3, 2021


Uncle Ger visited us. We just finished cleaning the house. I’m not sure if my mother likes him. His dad’s friend. A friend dad meets if he leaves to go somewhere. It’s in the city I think. The same city I went to the hospital and where I saw dad once. He was wearing a white coat but I can’t remember uncle Ger was there too. I like this uncle. He greets me and lifts me into the sky. He’s taller than my dad and treated me to some candies. My mother didn’t say anything about it but sent me to my room. I don’t care. I saw uncle and he was kind to me. I don’t need to hear what the grown ups talk about. It’s always boring.

Tonight I can set my shoe again and tomorrow we’ll celebrate the Saint’s birthday. I will read my book now.

Saturday
December 4, 2021

A kid’s diary

My wish list

One, two, three, four, five, six…

Bad memories stay

Promises

#kittywu #diary #childhood #childabuse

Med of hope

Nineteen months passed and many lost their lives. Not because of a co’-vi-d pandemic but because of spreading fear, anxiety kills, depressions, bankruptcy and the jabs. Injections are called the “vaccination of hope”. That hope is over.
Thanks to these jabs more people died than anyone could imagine. As long as we don’t know them it doesn’t matter. We don’t feel close to those who suffer as long as they are strangers, as long as we keep our distance.

It’s December 2020. Holidays, Christmas or the month we look back to what we achieved. Lost hope, dreams, freedom of speech, lost health are parts of this looking back just like how we treated all those people who said what we didn’t like to hear. We called them liars, conspiracy tale lovers, stupid and sick. Today the only problem we are left with is these people were right.
This Winter and the next year’s will prove it. The effects of Syphilis can show after 50 years. We know the effects of some meds. Already forgot the Thalidomide drama and the DES daughters scandals all caused by ‘medications’ of hope?

COVID Vaccines: What’s Really in Them?

“COVID Vaccines: What’s Really in Them?
The simple answer is we don’t know. We know what we’re being told is in them, but there is increasing evidence of big variations in the quality and composition of different batches, which may or may not be deliberate.
By Rob Verkerk Ph.D.”

If you go for it go for it and be brave enough to take the responsibility. Be responsible for your own deeds, acts, lack of empathy, life and those of your children. No matter how you put it in the end that’s what counts. You did what you did for a reason. Perhaps if you write that reason and date down it helps you in times of need.

Bad memories stay

Today it is…
It is October 20! I woke up. My head hurts. My ear hurts. My eyes are swollen. My throat hurts. I am not tied to the bed. It’s grey outside. I feel the cold. Did it freeze? I tried to sit on my knees on the bed. I feel dizzy. I don’t feel so good. I see mist outside and the streetlight is on. It’s grey.
I woke up felt the pain. I hurt my mother scream at me again. I did all she wanted I did not refuse. I tried to be polite and attentive. She waited for me behind the door. She hit me by surprise. I didn’t do anything wrong. She yelled, cursed, scolded me and kept beating me with the whip. She hit me with everything she could find.
I saw them looking, the neighbours, other kids. She yelled I am a thief and stole all her money. She held her wallet in her hand swung it in front of me. “You stole my money. You’ve always been a thief! I know you are.”
I said I didn’t take her money. I didn’t come into her room as she was asleep. She should know I don’t. I hate to be in her room. It stinks and it’s dangerous. I didn’t take the money. I did not! She kept yelling was furious again because of me. She always says it’s because of me. I saw how people watched me. Now everyone thinks I am a thief. I asked her to give me the wallet. I needed to see if it was true. Was the money gone? She said there was no need for me to have a look. She yelled she had checked it at least ten times. She said the housekeeper already did so. The money was gone and I stole it.
It went on and on and on.
The housekeeper stood behind her. She didn’t say a word, didn’t help me. She didn’t tell my mother to stop. She didn’t close the door. Did she enjoy my mother molesting me?
Next, I had the wallet. I slowly opened it. There it was. The lost money. It wasn’t stolen. No one took it.
“Here it is,” I said and showed her the money. She grabbed the wallet out of my hands turned around and left.
She left me with empty hands, a broken body and didn’t care. She didn’t say sorry. She didn’t say: I’m glad it isn’t lost. She didn’t care about me, my feelings, what people think about me. What will people think? They think she is right. Adults are always right. Children always lie. I lie, I’m a thief and have that crinkle. A crinkle in my head, that’s what she says about me. Crinkles are sick minds. She wants me to die or wants me to be locked in a nuthouse.
Can be I am crazy but I never scream, yell, scold. I do not see heaps of dirt and sand. I do not count how many times I wipe the same spot with the dustcloth. I do not walk the hallway up and down for hours and say: I am nuts, nuts, nuts, you drive me crazy, crazy, crazy.

I remember it all. I remember it very well. It all came back the minute I woke up.  I don’t understand why she hates me. I don’t understand what I did wrong. I did not ask to be born. I did not ask to live in a world with people who hate me. I can’t forget. The memory is back. Memories will never disappear. Not memories of a bad life. My life. It won’t get any better. I will not ever feel better. They say writing helps but I don’t think so. Not if writing is dangerous. Not if she reads it.

I waited in bed longer. The alarm clock stood still. You have to rewind it each day to know the time. There’s a clock downstairs in the living. I can look around the corner and see what time it is. Perhaps when the clock strikes I know what time it is.
I took my alarm clock with me and opened the door of my bedroom. I have to be silent. I don’t know the day or time. The stairs are long, the house is cold. I see the newspaper on the floor. This means it isn’t Sunday. Quickly I turn it around. I read the day. I read the date. I keep repeating it. Wednesday, October 20, 2021, Wednesday, October 20, 2021… Do I sound like my mother? I’m scared and I need to pee. I hurry to the toilet downstairs. It’s at the end of the hallway before the kitchen. I hesitate. It can’t be late. There’s not a single sound. I wait and wait, too afraid to flush the toilet. Scared to leave the privy. If I don’t flush my mother will be mad with me. I flush and ran out to the kitchen. The dogs are inside. It’s quiet. I feel thirsty. The table is set for breakfast. It looks as if nothing happened. The clock in the pocket of my bathrobe cannot tell the time. Did time stand still while I was away? I hesitate. I’m thirsty. I drink water from the tap and eat some cheese. She will notice it but I can’t help. I need to eat. I wait if I hear something. What time is it? It’s Wednesday, October 20, 2021. The living room door squeaks. I will not walk over the carpet. I won’t leave footprints. The clock is ticking. If it’s true it’s nearly 3 o’clock. Three in the morn. I hurry back upstairs, back to bed. Three more hours and the day starts. I set the clock while I’m shivering in bed. Why is it so cold?

Wednesday
October 20, 2021


Yesterday at 10 my mother told me to get out of bed. I had to take a bath and go downstairs. The kitchen was warm and I had my breakfast. She didn’t say a word about the cheese. At noon we had lunch and I could watch the telly. She didn’t speak to me. After supper she said I go back to school tomorrow.
So today was my first day at school. I gave her a letter to the teacher. No one asked where I was. I don’t think I missed anything. Not at school not at the gym.

Thursday
October 21, 2021


It’s Friday. At school, we first read in groups. It’s with the entire school. After school, it was practising for the orchestra and choir. I can not play an instrument. I wish I could but I can’t. We practice for Christmas, not for Saint Nicholas. These songs we do with our class. Christmas is a celebration with the parents. Nine weeks till Christmas. Six weeks till Saint Nicholas. Nine times or eight times to practice. Oh no, fewer because there will be Autumn vacation. The school will be closed.
So I was sick for how long? My mother always sends me back to school before school closes.

Friday
October 22, 2021


Dad is home. Everything is back to normal. Out of bed at 6, making the beds, polishing shoes, setting the table and cleaning the house. Dad sings and my mother complains. I wish someone will call and she leaves. No hiking club today. She said next week. The hiking club already has a vacation.
I don’t like vacations if it means I have to stay home. The housekeeper will stay home too. I try to stay close to dad and hope she forgets me.

Tomato soup and bread for dinner. On Saturdays, we only eat twice. Bread for breakfast and soup with bread for dinner and a pastry or cake at coffee time. My mother orders a lot of pastries, cookies, cakes and chocolate at the confectioner. Most of them she eats. After eating, she sticks her finger in her throat and vomits on the toilet. I don’t like the sound of it.

Saturday
October 23, 2021


Sunday day of rest? No, out of bed early, serving my mother and dad breakfast on bed. I got permission to switch the central heating on. I cleaned and went to Sunday school.
It’s cold outside and I don’t like to wear skirts. The skirts are short and cold. I wish I could wear long ones like when grandmother was a child.
I feel itchy again. I try not to scratch but I can’t stop. My skin hurts. My mouth, eyes and face too.
I don’t like to sit with my parents in the living. Dad reads the paper and my mother is always busy. Busy cleaning, at the telephone, her looks, complaining or with her schedules. Schedules about work. House chorus and so. She writes in the notebook for the housekeeper again the one she keeps it in the kitchen drawer.

If my parents would go on a holiday I could stay with granny… or grandmother. I haven’t seen them for longer. Auntie will get married so I can never stay with her again. I have another aunt. Dad’s sister. I never stayed with her. My mother hates her.

Sunday
October 24, 2021

Source: pixabay.com

#kittywu #diary #childhood #childabuse

The trapped child

The trapdoor… It was closed.
At least it was most of the time.
I can tell you there is nothing behind.
It’s not the place to be.
Too dark, too smelly, too much grief.

“It’s a wild world,” mom used to say.
She stated: it’s safer for me if I stay with her
which is short for: if you do not listen to me
if you set one foot outside I beat the crap out of you.
You little piece of shit!

This time bird poop did it.
It wasn’t my fault though.
“It was the bird who flew inside,” I cried
but she refused to listen to me.
She already made up her mind I deserved to be punished.

“No festival for you,” she yelled at me.
“You can forget about party time young lady!
Get out of my sight and wash yourself properly!”
“I couldn’t help it,” I sobbed.
The trapdoor was open as I finally showed up.

I knew what that meant.
Lockdown-time again, being isolated for days.
Can be weeks passed by.
I can’t tell why the trapdoor was open at that particular moment
It was a good thing I didn’t collapse yet.

What happened?
Who are those people asking: Are you alright?
Where was mom?
I collapsed woke up in a hospital bed.
I was all over the news, an icon.
The trapdoor girl survived, they said.

#kittywu #story #freewrite #weekendfreewrite

Prompts used

– trap door
– it’s a wild world
– bird poop
– festival
– a good thing
– icon

Plastic bag

How come I feel so sad?
Autumn?
Leaves falling?
Winter?
Depression?
No sun?
A lack of everything except CO2?

Where are the parks, trees?
No bush, flower left to breathe
excrete oxygen out

Overwhelming
Panic attack
Hyperventilating
Use a bag
They say

Breathe deeply
They say
Abdomen
They say
Slowly
They say
In and out
They say
Ventilate
They say
You’ll be fine
They state

‘Medical Care’
Hospital
Another test
How come?
I’m not treated like the rest.
Are you sure they do their best?

My parents warned me
Do not play with plastic bags!
Do not place them over your head!

Emergency
Out of breath
Use of face mask
It’s hard to breathe
Out of security
I am forced
Sticking my head
In a used plastic bag.
Gross
Dirty
No hygiene

How come I am treated this way?
Dangerous.
Child abuse
At home
CPS would show its face.
Leave me alone!

Granny was right
Hospital isn’t the place to be
Lack of knowledge
Courage
Incapability

Next time
I use the old medical encyclopedia
Granny’s tips
I stay home!

It’s not Autumn
Winter
What makes me sad
It’s the plastic bag!
Nurses, doctors
forced me to wear it
over my head.
Are they real?
Can they read?

Warning!
Danger!
For your safety!
Plastic kills!

Hospital
‘Medical care’
Needs you.
No common sense
No skills asked
One single task
make people stop breathing
Children first.

Dedicated to all those children (people) who are forced by hospitals to pull a plastic bag over their head.

https://banned.video/watch?id=

The good news is soon there will be no plastic bags left and you are choked with a pillow.

#kittywu #poetry #life #covid19 #news #informationwars

Back to normal?

Ever watched those movies about an armageddon? Each one starts the same. The world ends (the world is the USA) and of course the wealthy survive and reign on. Those wealthy men have a lot in common with the old men we face today: Fauci, Bill Gates and even Bourla. They are the ones who rule and threaten us.
If you read between the lines, if you read news, all news worldwide you know we will never go back to normal.

The normal we knew is gone for long. You just hope we’ll go back but it’s too late for that.

Vaccinated
* From now on you are registered and have to prove it with every step you take.
* Shot after shot is needed. If you refuse you will be part of the unvaxxed population.
* If a jab or booster kills you you are registered as “unvaxxed”.
* You will blame the unvaxxed because you need a scapegoat.
*You live in fear because you gave your right away, your natural immunesystem is broke.
* You will have to live (or die) with the higher risks of heartdiseases, bleedings, cancer.
*You live a lie and hope it will be back to normal soon.

Unvaccinated?
* You put your faith in taking care of yourself, your immune system.
* You can no longer eat salad or meat because they will add the mRNA into it.
* You refuse to let yourself jabbed because Pfizeer wants you to.
* Malls, festivals, holidays, perhaps even a job are history.
* You will be the scapegoat, the pariah and on your own. There will be no room for you if this world faces the end.
* You will be part of history. A history that tales how the world once was, a normal world your anchestors fought for.

No matter what you choose… We’ll never go back to normal. Soon big brother is watching you with help of your smart tv, phone, smart fridge, toilet, washing machine, vacuumcleaner and if you don’t listen they force you. Your bankaccount will be closed, they switch off the power and force you into their new normal and you know what! Within at least a year you all will say: We are finally back to normal thanks to the experimental shots.

https://summit.news/2021/09/27/pfizer-ceo-says-normal-life-wont-return-without-regular-covid-vaccinations/

#kittywu #column #pandemic #thoughts #newnormal

I kill you – a kid’s diary

July 24, 2021, was the last time I wrote. A lot has happened but if I think back it’s not worth writing about it. My Summer vacation is nearly over. It started with my stay at granny’s house, I joined the gym camp with the bullies and if I think back I still feel miserable about the sugar water. I forgot to tell you about the cute stone man they gave me. The mascot of Advendo is a huge stone figure called Kuub. They said it became babies and we all got one for a present. I placed mine in front of the window in my bedroom.
Next, my mother tried to kill me as she became hysterical again. I do not remember much from it. I tried as they asked me what happened in hospital but all I remembered was that terrible voice and the cupboard covering me. There was a police officer and a lady from CPS asking me how or what. The nurse asked and next to the doctor but I said nothing. I am not allowed to tell strangers about my mother. My mother told me to keep my mouth shut. She knew these people would ask me. “If you dare to tell anything to anyone I kill you”, she hissed at me as she bent over me and right after that she smiled at the doctor who entered the room and he smiled back.

Am I the only one who sees how fast her face chances? One moment she is angry and yells and spits at me the next second she is friendly. It confused me. Sometimes I believe she regrets what she did but as soon as I believe her she attacks me. I see how she enjoys hurting me but what I don’t understand is why she didn’t get rid of me. I know she didn’t want me so why keep me?

She didn’t visit me frequently as I stayed in hospital but I didn’t mind. The other children have visitors and toys and cards I don’t. Their parents are friendly and mine is not. I don’t like it when I feel sick or am in pain and people watch me or poke in me. I like it most if I am alone, away from home. If my mother acts weird it is better if she does that at home and not in the hospital, not if she stands next to my bed and everyone can see it.
I saw dad twice. Once he visited me and once I saw him with a group of others. They were all wearing white coats like doctors and following a doctor. I asked the nurse who brought me in a wheelchair for some tests. I didn’t tell her my dad is one of them, one of what she told were students. So my dad is a student in the hospital? Did he tell anyone I am here? Why I am here? It’s a very big hospital more like a factory perhaps no one knows he is my dad. Perhaps no one knows what my mother did and no one knows she is dangerous and mad.
I think I stayed at the same hospital as grandpa. He died but I am still alive.

The nurse told me I could go home and later the doctor said the same. No one told me how to get home. It was dad who picked me up and drove me to grandmother’s home. He didn’t say much just that I had to stay with her for the rest of the school vacation. It was a long drive and I mainly slept while I was strapped with a belt to the backseat. It made me feel sick. At grandmother’s house, he lifted the big brown suitcase out of the car and put it into the bedroom. This time I had to stay in the bedroom that once was my mother’s. The big bear filled with seagrass was sitting on the couch and stared at me. Did my mother abandon him like me? He’s nearly as tall as I am. I’m not sure if he’s hand-knit. Perhaps he is and grandmother made him for her. She knits well and very fast. His eyes scare me though. I held him for a while but it’s not a bear who likes to cuddle. He feels hard and stiff and I think he doesn’t like to be touched.
“You stay here”, dad said, “you can go to bed it was a long day”,
I’m not sure if it was a long day, longer than other days. It’s not dark outside and he didn’t give me any food. The hospital gave me breakfast. Two slices of bread wrapped in plastic. Two slices of what they call cheese were in plastic packed too. They felt warm and soft smelled like sweat. I like cheese but not this one it should be called and shouldn’t smell bad. I didn’t eat it.
The room is large and not as white and warm as in hospital. I like the silence and go to bed. I haven’t seen grandmother yet but that doesn’t matter. “Perhaps it’s safer here than at home”, I say to the bear. He looks at me and I think he understands but he looks lonely. I slip out of bed and lay the bear on the couch. “I won’t hurt you, you can sleep now bear.” He looks at me and I hope he understands me. If someone always hurts you you have to be careful and watch your steps. It’s long ago she hurt bear and he still knows it after all these years. I think he was happy alone in this room and now I am here and the danger is back.
I turn to my left side and ignore the pain. Bruises will heal, it will all heal one day but not what she said to me. “I kill you,” she said and I know she will. It wasn’t the first time she tried to kill me. Did she kill the baby in the jar too?

Saturday
July 31, 2021


It’s dark when I wake up. For a moment I wonder where I am. It’s quiet and I need to go to the bathroom. There are two. One is downstairs. Two long stairs and through the cold hallway. The other one is at the end of the hallway and a few stairs away. My grandpa made that one and I don’t think it’s used much. I will use it and after that, I go back to bed. Perhaps grandmother will come and to see me later. Usually, she does not. She always wakes up early and is in the kitchen if I wake up. Back in my room, I hesitate. It’s still dark outside.
“We have to stay here longer bear,” I say while I look at bear. His eyes are wide open but he doesn’t look at me. I understand he is afraid.
“I can hide you in the closet if you like.” I lift bear off the couch and carry him to the closet. He’s heavy but I have to help him. On the bottom of the closet, I make his bed. There’s room for both of us but bear isn’t used to me. “I’ll leave the door a bit open for you. It’s safe here, it’s a good closet.”
I think bear is happy. He can sleep now. I go back to bed.
If I wake up again the sun shines and I hear the church bells. It’s Sunday people go to church. The suitcase dad carried upstairs is opened. I wonder who packed it. There isn’t much in it. I brush my teeth and get dressed. Grandmother will be downstairs and I hope she gives me tea and something to eat. She will not go to church.

Grandmother is in the living. She listens to the radio and has a pot of tea. She gives me a slice of bread with butter and brown sugar and one with cheese. She doesn’t tell me to pray and doesn’t look at me. She lets me do what I like and I can watch television. No one visits her. She acts as if nothing has happened but avoids looking at me. She will once she is used to me. Me and my bruises, bandages and ugly face. Me the child no one wants to have around.

Sunday
August 1, 2021

#kittywu #diary #childhood #childabuse

That terrible voice

I clean and clean and clean. My hands are wounded but my mother doesn’t care. She knows I have allergies, she knows I have to avoid water and so much more. She says she has to clean because of my allergies. She blames me for all the extra work I cause her and that’s the reason why I have to clean the whole day and at times at night too.
Her obsession with dirt is worse than it has ever been. My mother is neurotic and even after it is super clean and checked by her at least three times she yells all of a sudden because she sees dirt. Dirt, dust, mountains of sand. There’s no point in telling her it’s clean. She won’t believe me. Her eyes see what I can’t see and she believes her eyes more than anyone else. With one hand she wipes the shelves of cupboards empty and shouts: Do it again.
As I step forward to pick up what she threw on the floor she pulls the cupboard forward and it falls on me.
How come I didn’t see that one come? I try to be alert like she calls it. I am not clumsy, not lazy just tired. The only thing I want is to sleep. Sleeping forever sounds good to me. Snowwhite took a long nap and so did Sleeping beauty. I am not a beauty but that doesn’t mean I can not sleep. My body hurts and the cupboard…it’s not that heavy at all. It covers me like a blanket. A blanket where she can’t touch me. I close my eyes and wait. There’s no reason to fight, try to get away. The cupboard is a good place to be. I close my eyes and no longer listen to her voice. I don’t care about her kicking me. She can do whatever she likes while I take a nap or better sleep till eternity.

The voices… I hear them but I don’t care about what they say. Why should I? It’s warm and cosy where I am. I don’t want to wake up I like to stay where I am. It’s good the way it is. Tired… I feel so tired. The only thing I want is to forget that terrible voice, forget where I am and go away. The darkness is a good place to be. If it is dark I can hide or walk around without anyone noticing me.
Something or someone pulls at me. I try to open my mouth but can’t speak. “Leave me alone I want to sleep”, is what I think but can’t say. Why don’t they leave me alone? I sink deeper and deeper and hear a voice telling me to wake up. Wake up? There’s no need to wake up. It is good where I am. “Let me be”, I say or perhaps it was a thought. I am happy where I am and I don’t want to go back to my life filled with misery where not one single person cares about me.
“In your grave, you can rest as much as you like”, granny says.
I smile. She’s right I can finally rest. My mother… she will be happy when I am gone. I will not cost her money, I will not spoil her mood, I will not give her extra work because of my allergies and she never needs to see my ugly face again.

My friend waits for me. He hasn’t changed and looks exactly the same as he did as he waited at the foot of my bed. I feel happy because the only one who ever waited for me is where I am now.
“Sorry, I made you wait. I am happy to see you and like to sleep now” I say or perhaps I mumble it but it doesn’t matter. My friend knows how I feel and knows. He knows me better than anyone will ever do.
While I drift away I think: there’s no light at the end of the tunnel, I am glad there is no light. At least I can sleep now.

Monday
July 12, 2021

#kittywu #diary #childhood #kidsdiary #childabuse

Dare to speak the truth!

Days pass by and worldwide it’s the same. Promises and after the promises are given people buy it, go for the jab because of that promise and next we all are back where we started, even worse. They, the government changes the rules. Not only once but every time.

“Here the people are confused”, my friend says, “not scared but confused”.

First, we did it to save the elderly, today it’s done because of? Not to save anyone, not to keep yourself safe… a part does it out of fear. FOMO. Nothing so bad as being banned out of society, being ignored, not being able to go to the pub, cinema, the musea.
Not that it bothers me I never visit a pub, don’t go to the cinema and the museum is history for me. I have had my share of culture after all I am an artist, a poor bastard creating own art. Why visiting a museum and look at what I have already seen or is showed in the books I have? Besides Modern art is hardly art to me. What Barba Bob paints looks better plus there are children more artistic. My children for example which means I am surrounded by art. They are painting on t-shirts, modelling, photographing, animating, giving lessons to children at boarding schools.

The birthday wish of a grandchild to visit granny won’t come true. Instead, it’s a Pokémon puzzle and some money transferred within a minute to increase the fun and positive vibes. This is all next to the financial gift I save each birthday. It might not be much but something is still better than nothing although I have doubts about the combination of money x future. Most likely the collectors are the survivors, not those who love and preach a minimalistic lifestyle. If you need food you need to grow it yourself and hope you can harvest (and won’t be robbed) or you have to give something in exchange, something that is needed and no longer produced.

The future will be full of outlaws. People trying to survive in the wild, hiding or locked in prison. Corrupt and gangs will increase unless many die long before and what is left are the slaves controlled by one power. What works for China will work with the rest of the world too.
The addiction to a cellphone, social media, to be noticed, be online is a fact. It’s the only place where the rejected, ignored and disliked people, creative minds, nerds, who loves to be noticed make friends and will be accepted, seen. In real life, the world outside is no longer popular and if so only if a lockdown takes too long. Suddenly a walk in the park is special. Restrictions by the way which of course do not count for certain people, those who arranged it all.

It never became clear to me what happened before ‘Star Trek’, ‘Planet of the Apes’ or ‘Star Wars’ but the world we are heading towards is a combination of all those SF we’ve been watching, even like. Games, chips, barcodes, QR codes included, just like knowing your location and therefore being registered. It’s a world without children where slavery, fighting those with an opinion of their own, killing presidents, doctors, common people and those in need is included.
‘The Hunger games’ started and most likely the battle in ‘Real Humans’ will never be fought. ‘Brave new world’ and ‘1984’ will end like the series ‘V’ because we are no ‘Highlander’.

I wonder about those 1500 doctors who claim they question this vaccine also famous for its gen-therapy. How many of them are really willing to fight against what’s going on. It’s easy to say you can not live with it because of your oath not to harm people but these are just words. Words not spoken which means they are thoughts. Joining the club of rebellious doctors is a way to tell your conscience you subscribed to a group of fighters, protested which means you are a good person.
Are doctors, academics that blind, such cowards, so scared? Yes, they are. I believe they can be bought because that is what big Pharma already does for years. They give fat bonuses to doctors and vets who prescribe their medication!
Money is what we all need but money and protection are what the mob gives to only a few.


Doctors… I wrote about them before. Their offices are closed, were closed and many patients died. Their diagnosis is not made or wrong. It’s been a trend for years. We know most accidents always happen at home not on the motorway. By now, even more, people wait to be operated on. They wait for months so it’s questionable if the need is still there.
The hospitals are empty, the ICU’s are empty. More empty than before the pandemic was announced.

No one, no country in Europe, permitted doctors to diagnose and cure. There was no education, no force to make fat people lose weight to pull them out of that danger zone. In the USA there was a city rewarding those who went for an experimental vaccine with a burger and french fries!
Our minister grabbed his chance and introduced “Dansen with Jansen” (dancing with Johnson vaccine). The young ones, those who are our future and called to be more intelligent than their ancestors fell for this trick. Many went for that jab and immediately went to the discotheque. The minister of Health smirked. After the weekend he had a great reason to close down everything. Mr Hugo de Jonge even admitted it was the only way to make this group go for that shot otherwise they would have never taken it.
If you ask me this generation isn’t smart at all. They are easy to buy with empty promises. Those who didn’t go out but planned their vacation can forget about it. Stupid kids! These are my words. You always sat inside gaming, you grew up with computers, you had access to every piece of info how come you didn’t see this one come? Everyone knows a vaccine will not make you immune, you can still spread the disease (the PCR test does not test that) and above all we know politicians lie they want the power!

The next group invited are the single ones. Again the Johnson & Johnson vaccine is used because better one shot as taking the risk those people won’t come back for the second one which a part doesn’t for different reasons. Even if they drop dead it doesn’t matter. At least that person had the shot.
The GGD (Regional Healthcare Department) invites singles to join their “Sjansen met Jansen” (Flirting with Johnson vaccine). At a romantic place (candlelight included) you have your jab and during those 15 minutes, you wait after being treated, you have your blind date. I wonder how many fall for that. You make a list with questions and talk fast if you like to know someone or hand over a letter with name, address and phone number. If the person jabbed after you is a loser or there is no click you have nothing (not that you have if you drop dead right at the spot).
If it comes to those 15 minutes that might be great if you are speed dating and can meet different people but what if not? And what will they jab into you with candlelight? No one will tell you that and we know we are all genuine pigs. We do not get the same jab they are even mixed by now. But hey who cares? Imagine there is a click? A ‘dating bureau’ asks for all your personal info to make that happen? It would be disappointing if after those 15 minutes (your 15 minutes) are up you have to leave and won’t meet again.
Side effects… they start later. If you feel ill, have a high fever this means you have to stay at home. Home alone.

You’ll see after this successful jabbing act there will be a very good reason again to continue the lockdown and that plan made many years ago.
No, of course, we are not like China but they love to be, beat China. We do not say having children is no longer allowed. We say black lives matter! We say: Thank god I had the shot if we end up in the hospital right after or weeks later with a heart infarct. We truly believe these stories because we are raised to believe them. We truly believe our doctor cares about us, the government and health insurance companies do because we pay. We close our eyes and keep on dreaming, no longer see the difference between dreaming and reality. If that happens to you you have a lot in common with Parkinson disease patients! With them the centre of the reason is disturbed, the black area (black box) is slowly vanishing. The college I followed about Parkinson disease was quite interesting. Also, the fact we all will have it if we get old enough (under normal circumstances the age of 100-110). More interesting is this disease is increasing and this doctor his youngest patient is 13 years old. If you know what happens with that black box, how it infects behaviour, daily life in every way, how the medication works (or fails) it does have a lot in common with what those mRNA and other jabs do in your body.  It infects your brains, intestines, ovaries, futures, hearts, lungs, unborn and born children. A biotech weapon to erase what is no longer needed, what is too much which is you.

No matter if you go for the dancing or flirting or eating out which reason you pick it won’t help you! ‘Freedom Day’ was what it is… just a day. Vaccinated or not you are still a danger because you are the virus which is a very good reason to wipe you out. In this new world, we all are criminals and will be treated like that. At first, people scolded the first person who was discovered with the new coronavirus. Next, the Chinese were blamed. After that the travellers, those who went out, the young ones followed by everyone not being vaccinated and today we are all criminals! Called criminals by those who committed the biggest crime in human history.
We will be controlled because we, the people, can not be trusted. If you get yourself jabbed out of fear you can not be trusted. We all know a dog that acts out of fear can not be trusted. Those who tricked you, spread the fear know you are a danger to their new world. They will eliminate you but preferably you kill yourself first.

That democracy you talk about? It doesn’t exist! It only exists in your head, because they mention the word. Twice I wrote an organization that fights for it but no answer. No opposition party in politics disagrees. If you like to know where the money flows now you know. If you like to know why presidents are sent away or killed this is your answer. Psychotic tricks, brainwashing is used for generations to make you think the way you are. The only way to stop this is to stop reading the usual papers and watching the usual news and joining the well known social media like Twitter, Facebook, Telegram, Google, Whatsapp. They read you, know you and will kick you out. It’s already announced that if your account is blocked at A you should automatically be blocked at B, C and D too!

Just to make this clear. Even if the coronavirus is over (mutations included), even if 100% is jabbed we will not go back to normal.
If you had your anti corona “vaccine” you are not safe. You still can get ill, you still can infect others if you are not ill. Those vaccinated are the super spreaders.

The coronavirus is all about aerosols, ventilating, a very small chance you get sick!

Vaccines are never without risks never protect 100%. The flu vaccine is only effective for 1-6%! Yes, you read this well. Other vaccines for 40%. Still, they are given and there are flare-ups of diseases.

Your immune system, especially with young people (<70 years with us) is strong. It’s strong enough to survive attacks of all types of viruses, bacillus, bacteria and so on. We are stronger than we think especially if we watch what we eat, sleep enough and are not overweight.
Most countries lied about the numbers of people who died of Covid-19 only. They say 17k and it turns out to be 158.

They do not check and count those being sick, not those who spread it but who has the virus.
Being positive if it comes to this virus does not mean you get sick. Most people (98+%) will not even notice it and never end up in hospital.

Governments, specialists, doctors worldwide lie and cheat and so does the WHO. They want to make this pandemic last forever or till we all do like told. Till those left are turned into grateful slaves. Grateful to go outside, grateful to be allowed to travel, grateful to meet or hug someone. If I look around me many already are. They are grateful for what is normally a right. They applaud for an hour outside or a day without a face mask. Some governments even want you to wear it inside your own home!

If you like to know what is going on you can still find it, read it yourself. Indeed this is scary to face the real world, to find out no one cares about pollution or a healthy nation but it’s possible to fight this, to do something back if you stop praying and hoping for a better life. How your life will be is in your own hands. You can still choose what you want for yourself, who you want to be.

Today my head is filled with information and just like many, it’s up to me how to go on. To figure out if I like a life like this if there is a future at all. I know many like me do not care about going out and I know governments know that too. So after pleasure, they take away everything else precious to you. Your job, your children, your education, your food, your life.
Eternal life, being immortal is a Rockefeller and Bill Gates thing not meant for normal people like me. “Who wants to live forever?” Not me.


July 21, 2021
In the Netherlands, you can contact ‘Lareb‘ if you have side effects caused by the new vaccinations. That will be hard if you are ill or die or already dead. There is a small chance a doctor will report it and if report what really happened. Doctors will never admit it was the experiment that killed. The chance they will investigate why someone died is even smaller. Most likely because of being overweighted, old, a drinker, having diabetes, being depressed, debts, being dehydrated, crazy, falling down the stairs, other medication or it was a natural death. The experimental vaccine didn’t cause it. 

AstraZeneca is no longer used we give it away to countries in need (sounds hypocritical to me).
Janssen (Johnson & Johnson) is still used. They said, “only if people explicitly ask for it“. Today they announced the second jab is a must. Again we are tricked.
We already know Pfizer wants a third shot (more cash bigger chance to clean up the virus named ‘human being’) and for sure the governments follow this nonsense advice and love the idea with it they kill others their natural immune system (their jab is not what we get). Once a puppet always a puppet.
Lareb and the EMA state they will investigate why so many people die after being vaccinated. Most likely this investigation will never take place because the only thing they want is you to get that shot! Besides no one knows what people are jabbed with today. My guess they are the controlgroup for this experiment which will continue till at least the end of 2023.

#kittywu #today #column #diary #health #coronavaccine #informationwar #life #stopthenonsense #politics