How did I get here? After riding the waves of eternity, being a witness of mad magic and becoming a rockstar, I find myself in a crisis shelter…
The Netherlands is a cold place, so as the people who call it home. My heart is locked after a life of exuberance, freedom and creative expression. I wonder what the strangers I’ve met would think, seeing me sit here, alone in a small room in a kind of homeless shelter. I can sustain myself my way, so what in the world am I doing here?
A free spirit who trapped himself. I loved and lost everything I cared for and more. After my psychotic breakdown, perhaps I locked up my inner child and buried the freedom I worked so hard for. I need to imagine a better life. This has gone to far. If I’m still here after the winter I will cut out some of my ribs and blow myself in the middle of the streets….
The version of me from one year ago would never ever allow this to happen. This is it. I am going to own my life again, no matter the risk. I like smoking weed and dancing in the middle of the night. Hustle some food and shelter here and there, dreaming big and flying high. Fuck this version I pretend to be now. I kill him if I have to!
Here’s the plan. Tomorrow I’ll find a place to stay for the winter, buy everything I need to roll and smoke a big fat joint and start living my dreams again. Maybe grow a bunch, preserve it for survival purposes, and prepare to freakin fly higher than the mother of all eagles.
I can barely remember the greatest time of me life. Maybe it’s because I nearly died right afterwards. Well, I’m sure I did die, and unfortunatelly came back to this place of rules and too many people…
I don’t like people. Most of them assume they are alive, until they are presented with a real challenge. Until they have to dig a little deeper. The great gift of danger makes their heart beat so fast it risks serious malfunction. Crazy right? Well, they say you fly when you die. I can’t wait for that, so I won’t.
Adios amigos. I’m out of here.