I don’t know when this all began….It’s kind of a blur. Okay, it’s really a blur.

I remember being by the river with junkies. Calling them my friends but not knowing their names. Skater junkies, one of them was homeless and I was his tour guide for the day. They were smoking meth or crack from a lightbulb, I’m not really sure…

I might have been smoking weed because  I know I was euphoricphoric and anxious treading through the hot sun from park to park, malnourished.

Something inside me cracked.

Dynamite in the distance.  They  say It’s supposed to be stolen, kids stealing small dynamite from the railroad companies.

I don’t even know what year it was..

Next thing I remember I was at home.

But I really remember the windows. Night

The upstairs windows reflected evil and translucent, mysterious in nature, watching me; From all angles because in my delirious mind windows had the capability to watch me from different angles but…. someone was showing me exactly what they wanted me to see and I knew it was not real. Like the outside world was just a TV screen, the world I knew was non existent.

The television early the next morning was somewhat of a magic window as well but…Through THIS magic window I see visions dancing and shimmering along the grass. I am young I’m just a kid who’s lost somewhere… I look through the window… a kid like me. Is that me? Under a tree where beautiful poems foretell my future. I see me. Painting and about to embark on my destiny.

This positivity couldn’t last long ….amidst a war…

…. But I hadnt been sleeping. …Amplified sounds, dynamite and gunshots, bangs and chainsaws, screaming echoing throughout this valley… you could say… .slightly distracting me?

Ambushing enemies by jumping directly through the window is something odd I had to do… to enlighten the world….because whispering in my ear, in reality I was whispering to myself but in my mind it was them, they were begging for it.

I know I’mm being watched…. Through other magic windows…I’m scared“I think that this is too unreal but I can’t wake up from this nightmare.

. .I sense a Mass suicide along the musty mountains, especially in the daytime… on my journeys through the neighborhood market and community bus gypsies and fortune tellers can see my darkness they sense it’s truth and they have been long storytellers.

But I am a goddess. God or what have you. Some sort of luminous being… bringing compassion. Flashbacks on my goals to save the world….I call out to them but I’m laughed at and called an imposter by my mother. My own mother

Not only my mother but the media as well. They portrayed me pissing on the tree of life but the truth was far from it.

I was watching anime on a 13 inch TV . A war episode, maybe gundam wing…

Fighter jets and gunships rattle my cottage on the ocean faster than the speed of sound so I jump out the window and they are already gone. The beauty of my delusional ideology literally brought to life in front of my face.

I’ve stopped taking my medication because I still didn’t understand what was going on with me… I spend my time wandering the neighborhood…..

there’s a baby crying. Why crying? What does it mean. Why am I here? I walk in and am threatened and arrested moments after. I had no idea what was going on….

Not before long I am captured down the dusty alley. Taken and stripped naked following multiple injections. Solitary confinement; a prisoner of war in my own eyes to be tortured and experimented on (partial truths) cloned, drugged, raped and interrogated in my mind….

“Why are you so scared?”  The doctors ask. “What are you afraid of….”.

I’m afraid of you. Devils in suits… I thought.

Alone and afraid I hear a piano from the distance. It’s.. so beautiful and I begin to cry. Harder than I’ve ever cried. I was thankful for something so deep. A change. A friend….

I made a friend with the music and a friend with Ali…. for a moment all at ease….

I made my escape after 2 weeks.  But I think I’m getting lost again. It’s easy to get lost in these mountains… the mountains by the ocean….. “it’s not the same any more is it?” Ali asked.

“No” I replied. ” it’s not,”.

Dedicated to Ali.

Rest in Peace.

By Nina Shade Vestergaard