What is naivety? What is madness. What is stupidity? What is guilt.

…and there “it” was.
He.
The leader of one of the largest companies in the world.
Me.
I should send more pictures of myself, he said -„Pictures are just for me personally, help me to deal with you, are intended to stimulate creativity and fantasy….”

But I am a pianist! …dare I think, in the midst of the grotesque image, of an old fart who had no business picking up a girl still in her twenties, with his limo, from the train station, to go….where? Pictures of me are not important. I am not important. My face is not important. I am there to play. I was sent to play. That’s what’s important. That’s how I’ve lived. That’s how I was raised, thought, treated – I am not important. Only my music.

So. What’s with the pictures… Fantasy…No. NO ! Fantasy for the perverted is called perversity. Fantasy is Schumann. Fantasy is a Cadenza. Fantasy is an ornamentation, an improvisation. Not perversity. Fantasy is not perversity. 

I played a song in my head. I played it in my head, I felt the keys, I felt the next key pressing on the side of my fingers. I heard the music. I felt the tension in my leg, looking for the moment to push down the pedal.
Nothing was missing. It was all there. The tempo, was more correct, than if I had actually played it.
The life within me, that I never lived, is all that I have. This way, I can still experience the music. This way, I can still live my life.

Naïveté brings with it a note of guilt. After so many similar parables, the ignorance of a system, that works perfectly, perfectly fair, perfectly protecting the guilty, is not something I shall infect my conscience with.

He couldn’t even care less, that I could show his Emails to the world. They never cared. It is my fault, right? I knew what I was getting into.

I can still remember when some other psycho tried to cut me into pieces, with his chainsaw. He said – “You only cared about your damn career and now I’m taking it away from you“.

25 years old. What did the police do, what did the state’s attorney do, what did the judges do, what did the lawyers do – looking at it and away, both at the same time. Well, not really. There’s only „one” for everything.
So they looked away.

They all got it wrong. He thought it is a “career”, when in fact it was just me. The rest thought there is no me. 

Like in a women’s shelter. Today this, tomorrow that. But never solve a thing, never get out of it for good. Ant-steps. While crawling back and getting better at accepting the misery.

Always create problems, come up with some pre-arranged solutions, pretending to do something, instead of accepting your worthlessness and stepping back from hurting others. That’s YOU. The handlers. The animators. The financiers. The lazy dealers. I know you all, I met you all. You all tried to make me be yours. 

I am nothing like that, remember? I am NOTHING.

Maybe he will let me go. Maybe I can escape. Maybe he won’t rape me or beat me.  Maybe he won’t kill me. 

Naivety. Madness. Stupidity. Guilt.
The four stages of abuse.