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In the afternoon we had handcraft at school. You are free to do what you like. The mothers are the handyman at school. They teach us how to use a hammer, nails, a chisel and saw. The headmaster is not present perhaps he hides in his room?
After school, I went home and thirty minutes later I left for gymnastics again. It's still no fun to be there not good enough to escape from home, my always angry and complaining mother.
I guess it says something about the gym lessons if I rather stay home and take the risk to be beaten up instead of going to gym. I am not sure why I go over there. Perhaps because children at school do? It's the same with playing music. The school has it's own orchestra but I can not play the recorder. Reading notes and practicing is hard. My parents do not play any instrument. Only my granddad did, he played trumpet and had a piano too but he is dead. Buried somewhere in a small place far away from where I live and my granny lives. No one visits him.
November 5, 2020
I still think about the baby in the jar. His eyes were closed and he looked so peaceful. I am not sure if he tried to suck his thumb. Perhaps he did. Why did he die or did he just leave? I don't believe my mother would have been happier if he was alive. What you want is never what it is like if you have it. A sweet-looking baby changes in a fat bully, a mean person, with acné, a bad health. The voice is not pleasant, the hair not as expected and if it still wears diapers, stutters or plays in the dirt it will make my mother angry. She forgets and will beat it with a whip, leather belt, her high heels or the iron dog leash... Perhaps the baby saw it, heard my mother's voice, her scolding and cursing, knew how it would be and left. His soul left that little body and floats around and watches those people who should be his loving parents and family.
What if he is still here? The soul I mean. It grew older and no longer fits in the tiny body locked in the jar. Where can it go to? I don't think two souls in one body fit. They will fight and one has to leave or keep silent for ever.
It reminds me of the poor souls in that man. They asked for a body but Jesus didn't give one to them not helped them. They asked to stay in the pigs. Jesus said it was fine. Those poor pigs must have felt so confused. They ran off and fell of a cliff... It sounds cruel to me. Those souls should receive help not be abandoned but I think Jesus cares more about walking up girls out of the death and doesn't care about the animals at all. What did those pigs do wrong?
If you are cruel to animals you are not a good person. It's hard to be good, I don't think anyone is and will go to heaven.
November 6, 2020
I was out of bed at 6 a.m. The house needs to be cleaned. We had breakfast in the kitchen. As long as my dad cleans the bathroom, kitchen, does the garden, car and shed it's not as much work. Only four rooms, 2 hallways, two toilets and a living left, next to making beds, ironing and polishing shoes.
We clean and clean and my hands are always wounded, covered by eczema. It's the same with my face. My mother says she does all the cleaning because of my allergies but she hardly cleans. She makes me clean. If I am allergic shouldn't I stay away from the thick woolen carpet, the dust, dirt, the vacuum cleaner and all those cleaning products?
My dad and I did the shopping after the bakery delivered the bread, cookies and a box of 'old' bread for the dogs.
In the evening I was allowed to watch a new episode of 'Swiebertje' and after that my dad watched TopPop. It's a music program.
November 7, 2020
Cleaning the house, Sunday school, just sitting and waiting till the day is over.
My mother cooked like she always does on Sunday's if we do not visit a restaurant or visit my grandmother. We sit around the table in the living. It's the only day of the week. Speaking is not allowed. Her food I don't like, it's too much but I have to eat it because Biafra is hungry. I don't understand what Biafra has to do with what she feeds me.
November 8, 2020
Out of bed at 5:30 a.m. It is winter. I am sure it is. Everything outside is frozen. I put my clothes on underneath the blankets before I go to the bathroom. The entire house is cold.
I make the beds, polish shoes and set the table for breakfast. Tea, bread, butter, cheese, ham, marmalade, chocolate sprinkles and spread and peanut butter. Why so much? No one will eat it.
Just before breakfast my mother arrives back home. I hear her car, how she slams the door and hope she will go upstairs to sleep first. She does not. Why should she? She loves to ventilate and blame me for everything. If she is angry with her clients she scolds at me and hits me. She likes to see how I am in pain. I look at her and have nothing to say. I don't know how I feel. What I do know is I don't like her but... I don't feel pity for her. Every feeling inside is gone. I think my soul left me and there's only a dark hole left in me.
November 9, 2020
I am not in the mood to write. Not today. There is nothing left to share or talk about. Sharing has nothing to do with caring. If you share you ventilate and make other people feel miserable. You scold, hit, get rid of the nasty feeling and cause that person pain.
I don't hate my mother I just think she is not a mother. Not my mother or anyone's. She is mean and filled with hate and I... I am empty. There is nothing left I like or can share, or give. I can not be part of this world, the people. I am a weirdo, stranger, alien, an empty barrel.