Everything is true

Get to know me?

Per way of introduction, I haven't said much so far. It's time to remedy that. But be warned, that things I might say here are probably not for the faint of heart.

That's because I don't like to lie. It's easier for most people to just nod their head and get on with it. I don't like that notion.

Everything is true

Nothing seems impossible anymore. Strike that. Nothing IS impossible.

In fact, quite to the contrary "I'll doubt that until someone proves otherwise" I have now taken the stance to assume that EVERYTHING is true.

And it's been quite liberating to walk through the worlds with the eyes finally open. You see everything and everyone in a different light.

The truth truly sets you free.

The earlier days

Lies, lies, lies ... it was all I got when I was younger. Especially by mother. Everything she told me was utter crap. The things about God and that Jesus will love me if I let him. I tried. Didn't work out very well. But most of all I hate her because she told me that she loved me. Which, in turn, wasn't true as well. I found that out when she abonded me by slitting her fucking wrists, leaving me alone with dad.

Dad ... He didn't lie much. He didn't need to. Because I knew he hated my guts, mostly because of the beatings I got, at first undeserving, the later ones because I was doing the things that I shouldn't do to spite him.

He never had wanted me, and reminded me of that fact every time he was drunk. Which translates to "at each fucking waking hour of his miserable life". I think he was jealous, because he thought that mother was projecting affection towards me that should be reserved for him, and him alone. Truth to be told she just didn't love him anymore. Hated him, even. She told me that when I was five. Thank you, mum.

So mother killed herself when I was ten. Left me alone with the monster, who at first beat me up even more, until he realised that if he beat me up too hard I wouldn't be able to cook his dinner. Clean the place. Do the laundry. In the end, he stopped beating me all together, because he just didn't care anymore. Mother was gone. I was here.

Took him two more years until he finally started to love me. Only in all the wrong ways possible. Two years and the pair of breasts I grew in them. I really wished he'd start beating me again.

"Don't be shy." These are the last words I heard from my father until yesterday. He'd just wrestled me down, shredded my shirt and was clumsily trying to get his pants open. I can still feel the alcohol stench hitting my face on bad days. Thankfully, he was so pissed that he didn't do things properly. Like pinning me down. Me and the knee that hit his groin. He also couldn't deflect the vase I broke on his head. Unfortunately I just couldn't, wouldn't take the kitchen knife and finish him off. I should have, really, really should have. But I ran instead. I was thirteen.

Why I tell you this

Gotta tell someone, don't I? Not because of what happened then. I've done a good job burying those memories a long time ago. Although the firefly made me relive some of my not-so-finest moments. My fucking life running through my head, making it spin. It wanted me to remember. And so I did. And knew what I had to do.

I'm telling you this, because of what I did yesterday.

He had found a new wife, actually. No kids though.

I made sure she wasn't in the house when I torched it.

And then made sure he wouldn't get out.

Now I have better last words then "Don't be shy."

Now I have "Please, oh my God, pleeeease, nooooooo."

I like it that way.

The things you can get away with

Nobody cared. Really. Not even his new wife. I think she was glad that she found a way out that was better then the way my mother had used.

And me? I just torched a place, killed a man. Nobody cared.

Even IF the police would've cared, I like to think that the dragon would have covered it up. It was what I had expected.

I hadn't expected to just get away with it. Walk away from the sirens and flashing lights. Nobody cared.

If you got places to torch, don't wait for it. Because you can and will get away with it. And nobody will care as well. This whole damn world doesn't care anymore.

Everything is true, part 2

So you're sitting in the subway, surrounded by people.

Just for one second, close your eyes, and wait for the first thing that pops into your head. It's true. There's no IFs and WHENs, no BUTs and no HOWs. It's true.

Is the baby over there really the reincarnation of an ancient Demigod? Yes.

Is the woman cheating on her husband with another woman? Sure.

Does he know and plan her murder right now? Yes.

The old lady holding her hip, did she really do demon summoning rituals in the thirties? You betcha.

Will the next person running for president really be afraid that his prior porn career will come to light? Of course.

It's all true, somewhere. Everything is. There are no IFs and WHENs, no BUTs and no HOWs.

Will Vampires rule the world because of the Twilight saga? Yes.

Is the person sitting next to you dead AND alive in a twisted state of equilibrium? Definetly.

Will you die today? No doubt.

Will zombies rise out of mass graves wearing fricking tutus and eat only ballerina brains while rehearsing the dead swan? Damn fricking right they will.

Will Aliens land in the middle of Hyde Park to claim their right to free speech? ... okay, no.

C'mon, Aliens? No one is that gullible.

Fuck.

Breakbeat, over and out for now.