Things…

For me things are important.

My books, which created me, full of knowledge or fun. Stones and scented candles. My magnets, and post from friends, which I got…

Things are important for me, so do not tell me, that loosing them in leaving the mold house, is nothing. That those are only material things. Nope. Not for me. I am animistic. Some pieces are alive for me. It does not mean I keep everything, but a snow-globe I got from Olli few days ago will be always a memory of first guests in my Gulehus. New, yellow home. Home… truly home.

Don’t tell me it is not important.

Saying that you humility me, you are condescending. You do not know how my broken mind needs simple things to survive need to kill itself.

So stop.

You are only repeating things running in this society for ages. Nasty things. Which should make me feel bad, make me feel having too much. And trust me, two soft chairs and two materaces on a floor is not too much! And it is all about books which were about ages old and collection ones…

… so you know nothing about how much it was worth.

And yes, I am mourning things. Because sometimes when I take something in my hand, I feel better. And I never had anything coming easy. I had to work, fight, I do it everyday, so just stop. I can have a different view at this thing, life, everyday. We have some kind of freedom… I think?

Or maybe not?

PS. And loosing the paintings which were the most important to me… it is tearing my inside apart. It is pain… it will not go away quickly.

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