Her First Death and Second Life (Her Stolen Childhood)  

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G.'s first life ended violently when her family got torn apart. Let's not get into gory details, but just say some people left voluntarily, some left unvoluntarily, and some were left to pick up the pieces but after all decided to set sail, and to live behind the ones who were already at odds when everybody was still there. And to be sure the fun is complete, the ones left had to be tortured mentally and physically by the left-over governing person. Funky picture.

So that could be one of these posts where you get deeper into the levels of Wonderland to have a chat with the Cheshire Cat, and explain what things that are now happened and how they've been conditioned by things that were. Or weren't.

After all, I cannot pretend that G. not having a normal childhood doesn't seem to me to have had an influence on her life. Of course, I know lots of people in similar situations will raise themselves and call for an objection, your honor. Evidently. Because you better object than accept. She had a shitty childhood, which of course had bits and pieces of interesting and fun moments. All kids have fun moments, even in the dirtiest slums, in the poorest situations, and with malaria on top of it. Kids are kids. They have that quality: they just don't care about the wolf if there's a big blue butterfly landing on top of his ears.


But I wouldn't say she is still traumatized by it. But apparently, she had been, and for a long time, and she still has issues with that part of her past. She's sweet and all, but there's a scared little girl
hidden somewhere, and sometimes you can see in her eyes, those hardened eyes that can look up at you and tell you to back off with the severity of an army sergeant. And what these eyes tell you in such moments is dead simple: run away, daddy's coming.

Not that "daddy" seems to have been the worst father on earth. Apparently he did plenty of stuff the right way. Her passion for her art is from his doing; though he forced her into it at first, so I'm not sure it's still a valid point in the "Good Stuff" column... He also provided for her. Until she left. Which was pretty
young.


G. had a terminal cancer when mommy did not come home, a long time ago. And she died of agony when daddy took over what was left of the democracy in the home, sweet home. Friends disappeared -"friends are useless, my girl, you know it: they'll betray you"- just as pets did -"dealing with killers and bankers is not a walk in a park with your dog"- and roots where eradicated -"we move to a foreign country because that's where power is".

That doesn't bring us anywhere near prostitution, you'd tell me. Or quite the opposite, pseudo-psychotherapists would jump on the occasion to classify the case in a neatly organized folder. The affair is closed: the murderer was the father with the belt in the living-room. And bam, the daughter becomes an escort years later. Easy. Not quite. But that definitely fits into the picture, so that life was worth mentioning.


Some people could have been left for dead for good, after such a hit (and with the compassionate help of these sociopaths as parents). And there would have been no second life, or only a very long and numb second life, filling up the void left until the real, physical death would have put the dried soul out of her misery.

But G. was made from a different wood. Maybe because of these very crazy parents, actually. She did not become a hard and paranoid person out of her environment. That only came later. First, she was forced into it, like you're forced into taking the dive at bungee-jumping if people are queueing behind you. "It'll only last a few seconds. Enjoy the view."


She got up on her feet and ran. She ran straight ahead, for a long time.

Literally.

And she barely ever looked back.

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