somewhere something

something has created my life that I can’t call my own, I feel like I can’t know and perceive either myself or my environment.
the drop is that while in a boarding house I attract 90 percent of negative people, and the rest can be counted on the fingers of one hand.

although 9 years have passed, sometimes I call it my home, but in my mind, I go back to my past and the people I wanted and could communicate with. it was my environment that I created for myself …. churches and jazz, a community of people with disabilities and a night city after a gig ….. right now it’s just a memory because that’s what it was, no matter how I wish it would never come back …..

some doors of the past need to be closed, some need to be closed a little, some need to be remembered from a good and positive side. I don’t want to remember my good past with pain, let it warm me up, and give me hope that things will come back again.


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