It’s the first time since I was a boy, that I feel like talking...but there is no one left I can talk to. I just wanted to be a good son and a good believer, but I failed....well, maybe it's better that way.
What did I do? I’m asking myself this question for a whole week now. A week... is it already a week now? Damn! Unbelievable...
My head is empty. I’m not feeling anything I could describe here. Am I dead? I must be, because I’m lost and nobody is here. When I was alive -even on the streets, where I’ve been on my own- I was never alone. All around me were people I didn’t know.
In the last years there has been a shadow beside my all the time. I wonder if this was a dream. I can’t remember all I did and went through. I even can’t remember the name of the man, that I was hunting. Who was he? Why did I do this? Why him, and what’s more important... why me? What did I do wrong when I was younger?
This is bullshit. I know I shouldn't use this hard lanquage, but well, it is bullshit!
I just wanted to see her once in my life... is it wrong für a boy to miss the feeling of love? Is it wrong to miss the lullabys of a mother?
What the hell is wrong with me? Why do I fell so childish even right now, when I write about it?
I remember a young woman. Eileen, yes, I remember... what did I do to her? Maybe it’s time for me now to think about the things that happened once again.
I’m pretty sure, I didn’t get it till now.... I have to think about it....I have to...outch, my head is feeling like it’s close to explode.
I need to rest.
...What is this, did you find some article or something and decided it would be interesting to act as if you were him? I don't know where the hell you put all that information together from, but one thing is sure; this is sick.
I have no idea whatever you want to gain from this, but stay the hell away from me.
And tell your damn sources I'll sue them if I find my name written on some unofficial articles, because the newspapers sure as hell keep names hidden.
Walter-Sullivan (21.6.09 00:27)
I gave you an answer in you own journal.
No Henry, it's me...i fear...it's me