Don't we all have our own little black books in here in which we attempt to write the pain away?
When I saw the new girl sitting in the garden all exhausted with hers in front of her, I ran upstairs.
I have no energy to meet another who writes her pain and plan down in a little black book.
No, I'll leave you alone.
Alone with your black book.
And I'll be in here writing too.
Upstairs or in the basement where I found out where they keep the clean white coats.
Nobody will see the stories.
Nobody can explain the journey.
I just hope you'll get some mercy.
Cause I've never seen any mercy.
Even while dreaming.
But the dreams do keep me going.
I have to still keep going.
Don't we all have to still keep going?
Don't we all need a little black book?
Do you also feel frozen and stuck deep inside your body?
Constantly?
Doesn't it get too heavy?
Like for me every day.
I won't ask you today.
I don't want to know the answer.
I have no breath left to respond.
And maybe you don't either really.
So I run upstairs.
And close the curtains to the garden and lay my head down on the chair.
The chair I wish I had when my bag of helium filled itself with oxygen when I wasn't sitting up straight enough so I didn't die.
And now in here I can't get helium.
And I wasn't approved for euthanasia either.
I lost my place to live because of trying, three times because of the situation.
Homeless.
Can you see what's wrong with this system?
Fighting for euthanasia, having dates planned already.
But the doctor to do the final check did not approve.
The second one didn't either.
But then one did after trying a few more treatments but they thought he was too willing.
Then the next one didn't either and so the case was closed.
The Netherlands, euthanasia, it's not working at all.