(google image search: “abstract world”)

I close my ayes hoping to open them and see a new world. A world where everything is as it should be, is it heaven or is it hell, no such concepts are necessary. It is the real world the world that unleashes everything that we are, no restraints, no attempt to fit in to social order, just pure humanity with a basic understanding and a desire to explore others one self and the world.

My head is damaged I’m walking through this place but I’m not their, something is puling at me stopping me from entering this place. My head is clouded and corrupted, it is not free. No one but my self has put these limitations on to me. There are no exterior forces it is only how you chose to respond to what is around you. You decide what to feel. But our minds are so week mine included that we are unable to see unable to live.

I try to take control over what I want to see, try to free my mind. But there is a voice in me saying you cannot walk alone, you must find your sole mate first. I shout “Bulshit how can I find my sole mate if I’m not fully me, how will she recognise who I am?”

I am human we are alone in our heads, I must walk alone.

For some reason it is hard writing this, trying to access the pure essence of me to let the words flow. There is an unknown desire to crawl in to the corner and hide.

I feel like I will automatically return to the automated story I wrote when I was 18 that said everything I wanted to say, that showed me the path I wanted to walk that revealed who I wanted to be. 11 years on I still feel that I’m not close to being free, that I will end up writing the same words. The story was called the door to darkness, was edited and published in a Norwegian fetish magazine DUO. But this is not true I have come closer, I have my photographic work that I use to unravel the world around me to look and show people what I’m seeing. But I feel like I’m holding back. Though I’m doing it for a reason, I don’t want to create a picture that reveals everything. And if I should ever make a picture like that it should be completely over the top stretched to the furthest degree. Will I truly be free then? I have don it in writing can I do it with images? But the question is, can I write freely in writing again?

Dead flies are flying over the world, entering people like parasites killing them, reviving them realising them. My train of thought was stopped; I need to be alone when I write this not surrounded by my sister and mum arguing.