Report on the dead

Dear readers,

So - I am all alone in the house I grew up in. Totally weird. And also very comforting. It is having back an old friend that has been lost a long long time.

When I go in the attic, and stand at the spot I had my frist kiss with Chritiaan, I cry. When I stand at the spot my bed was, I laugh. When I stand on the spot where I knew I was pregnant, I want to do every bad thing to myself. So on that spot, I do not stand anymore.

It is weird, having this big empty space without any personal stuff inside it.

All of my stuff is in my 'home' where I do not feel at home at all. I feel confind to this jailsized house that I call a apartment, that I call 'home'. So therefor I am happy to be somewhere else, to be alone at a house I once did call my home. To the places I cried, laughed and died a little.

For me, it's like being on a vacation. In the days of the past - to the happy place.

Love,

Aledawn