Sunday, February 26, 2012

Döm hende ikke.

Okay. So I went out and had brunch with some girls. One of them had brought a girl friend along, no big deal. When we were sipping Bloody Mary's, she asked me about how I, a Karen hill tribe/Isaan girl ended up in Denmark.

I told her that my family from my dad's side pretty much all got killed off because of the genocide in Burma, that I didn't really know my biological dad and that my mom met my step dad through a mail order bride service. One year after she married Lars, I ended up in Denmark.

She asked me if my mom was okay. Okay? Are you fucking kidding me? Of course she's okay. God. I'm so tired of stupid Western girls who all assume that mail order brides are submissive victims. Fuck you bitches. Don't you get it? My mom saved our family. We came from nothing and we had less than nothing.

If my mom didn't marry Lars, then my life wouldn't have been this good, materialistic wise. She married a man she didn't know, for her family's sake. For my sake. Why? Because she wanted a good life for us. And since when has fighting for a good life been considering wrong? So please, stop.

Human trafficking is wrong - but this was not human trafficking. My mom didn't get trafficked, she decided to take a huge fucking chance in life and see if she could start up a new and better life in another country. There's a difference. I'm proud of my mom when it comes to that. I'm not sure if I would be able to do the same thing as she did. You know, traveling to a country 8000 km away, where I didn't know anyone, couldn't speak the language etc. - to marry a man I didn't know, for my family's sake.

Hmm. Anyway. Love. Why do so many people take love for granted? I mean, marrying out of love is a relatively new thing. It's a privilege. And people don't seem to get that. Be grateful, bitches.

Ok. Moving on. I feel dirty. In the non sexy way. I don't really know what else to say. It's just.. My entire body is itching. I've already showered 5 times today, but I can't get rid of this feeling of being filthy. I wish I could peel off my skin, layer by layer.

I'm not dead, but it doesn't feel like I'm alive either. I'm just here. Stuck in a place where I don't really belong. I wish I could talk to someone, but meh. The last time I tried to tell my grandparents it didn't really feel alright inside of me, they took me to the village temple, where a nurse and a monk were waiting. They told me I had malevolent spirits inside of me. So they gave me anti depressants and the monk started chanting. They kept making me drink water the monk had blessed, in order to purify me or something like that. They said it was for the greater good, when I started crying and asked them to stop. 
It didn't really help. Tried committing suicide a few months later. Being 12 was fun. Since then I've had a hard time opening up. No chanting or forcing water down my throat, please.

It's hard to believe that I once used to be happy all the time. Or perhaps I've never been happy, maybe it's just something I try to convince myself of, in order to make all this look less miserable. I can't really remember the last time I was truly happy. I can't really take it anymore. I'm so tired all the time. 

I'm hungry. But I don't want to be hungry. And I think I gave up on myself a long time ago. Sometimes I wonder how a person would react, if he/she ask me how I'm doing and I actually tell the truth, instead of saying "I'm fine, you?". But no one really expect you to say "fuck no, I'm not okay. Fuck you all" when they ask how you're doing etc.

Anyway, I'm starving. Haven't really been eating for two days now. Hopefully there's a few apples downstairs.

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