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I was working like any other day. A feeling of dizzyness made feel a little bit far from reality, like in a second level of space and time, right behind the one. The whole morning had been extremely hard with people shouting orders, asking you about your state of mind, being curious about your work, your duties, yourself. People often behave like a wildely irrational monkey. Competitive and agressive behaviours are part of us, in many occasions, aren't they?

In the afternoon I couldn't stand it anymore and left that place for ever. Leaving behind some part of me that I didn't need anymore. A feeling of guiltyness went away and stayed there. I felt released when I arrived home and knew that I needn't to go back there any more. I was at home. I felt free. I knew I wasn't born to feel I had to "work".

I hated so much stuff about my life, and yet I knew it was a good life, a very good one... So, at the same time I felt guilty and responsible for what I had. I knew the situation was unfair. But at the same time felt trapped and damned already. I felt terribly out of reality. I felt I had to be driving highway to hell.

But then I realised it wasn't right either. So the situation was difficult to sort out. I didn't know what exactly was my location in the world. I didn't know what was my space, my place. I couldn't stand in front of myself and say: "I want to break free", nor "I have the power".

Then, I met you. Now the problem had a different nature. I was inlove with you. I didn't want to stay away from reality, I needed to stay there with you. It was so important. I thought that the most important thing was to please you. So money became my means to reach you. I decided I had to find a job. Be normal. Like you wanted me to be. And one day you told me: "You don't own me, I'm not just one of your many toys."

I felt really alone, out of place, out there, in the middle of the Great Sea of Nonsense. I felt nothing had a meaning. That the whole life was but just a huge dung of holy shit. A kind of supercosmic diarrhea that had no purpose. I felt that there was nothing for me out there. I had to return, go back home. But my heart was broken, and the door was closed. So I burnt the house with you inside. I only regret having lost all the furniture. 



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