I destroyed all the tiny traces of you from my existence. What I could not disconnect myself with, my badly dented psyche. Dented so badly, I could not recognise myself anymore.
Between remembering how to breathe, between trying to forget you, between trying to start living from scratch, I said to myself that I would not let anyone do that to me ever again.
Disclaimer The
Neurotic One shall use this narcissistic recluse to blow his own trumpet, to
question the parentage of Communists and to blast the world for what it is.
Readers who do not concur, are requested to bend over and kiss his buttocks.
Readers are also strongly advised against side effects of reading Neurotica,
such as strong nausea, splitting headaches, insomnia, visions of Baba Sehgal
chasing you in a thong, suicidal depression, delirium, anti social behaviour,
transformtion into an ugly toad, nightmares about ugly and naked fat men, STDs,
Kafka dreams or brief flashes of intelligence.
If you do feel these side effects, oh well. Sue me.
