And again – I would love to brake those boundaries. I would love to feel, to touch, to be out there… but really how much? I would love to tell you all about my private life – all! The sick parts, the wonderful parts, the strange parts. I´m surrounded by so many strange people, all thinking that I am the odd one. O gosh!
I would like to tell you about that I am scared that someone actually will kill me. I would like to tell you about the manipulating people surrounding me, how they play games with me and my life. I would like to tell you… would I? Maybe I´m just building a fence to secure the area.
What is real, and what is fiction? Are authors really telling a story of fiction, or are we just telling the truth about life? Did the killer walked in to my story from the reality of our society, or was it me creating him in my brain just to let him be a part of how I see reality?