When I was a kid, I thought that I will never start living on welfare, because it is better to earn your living through hard labour rather than lazing your ass off on other people's tax money.
Right now I'm 22, and I have lived on welfare before I even became 18 years old.
What should I say?
What do you want to say? That I am a social parasite who should be banished to salt mines?
But I'm planning to get better; in autumn, I will go to the night school to study the last compulsory class before getting my diploma, then I will apply for vocational school to study as a librarian. Then I will get a job, quit living on welfare and start earning my living.
I find it hard to write about my dreams properly. But let's give it a try.
Last night I had a dream that me and the Francanians, along with the counselors, were taking a trip to Kangasala, when I took the wrong bus and ended up to Kellokoski. You know, the one- horse town with the mental hospital where I spent a period in my life. It's kind of weird how, when I have dreams of Kangasala, I dream of Kellokoski being a neighboring town. When I ventured through the city center, I saw how beautiful the newly built houses were, suddenly the night fell and I saw a shopping mall glowing in the darkness. I ventured to the Ohkola hospital, where I spent the best summer of my life. I wanted to get admitted there, despite not being crazy anymore and being well over seventeen years. I managed to sneak in, and after a while, I tried to break the lock on the door to get out.
I had some pretty perverted dreams. I woke up feeling horny, but now that I think about it, I feel ashamed.
Sometimes I wish I didn't have any dreams at all, they make me feel queasy whether they are happy, sad, whatever.
Today wasn't too special; went to Citymarket to buy two bars of chocolate, took the bus 452 to Helsinki, visited Sederholm House to see the current exhibition about the history of women rights in Finland, then I went to Ateneum shop to pick up the new issue of Voima and looked around for a while. I was looking at fridge magnets with different exhilarating sayings, one of them caught my eye:
"Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing." -- Helen Keller
That's how I have always viewed my life; I don't have to travel around the world or get pants shitting drunk to view life as an adventure. But still.
"Every day we experience miracles, but all too often dismiss them as coincidences. -- Kaisa Leka
Maybe it's not my life that needs fixing, it's my attitude towards life.
I took a train back to Myyrmäki. Once home, I dyed my hair red.
I went for a bike ride, once home I started re- watching Drag me to Hell.
Sometimes I can't help thinking what would have happened if I had committed suicide at the age of 14. I was in junior high then, and like I wrote earlier, I was the most hated and discriminated person in my school, my parents kept on yelling at me and my brother mentally abused me, and my guinea pig, my only friend died. I was thinking of the methods; slitting my wrists, jumping off the roof of my house or hanging myself. I didn't do it, because I was a coward. I mean, what would have happened to me? I would have been left permanently brain- damaged, but my school mates would shrug it off and make a joke about it; "Miia was brain- damaged already". But now that I think about it, I would have made the world better; my school mates would have had a huge party after getting rid of the ol' pizza face, cry baby, dumb blonde, poindexter, mother fucker Miia the Marmot Mangle who shoves her guinea pig up her own pussy, according to my best friend. My parents would of course miss me, but they would divert their attention to my older brother who they think is some sort of super hero. And besides, that's how evolution works. The weak ones are supposed to perish. Who the hell gives a shit about me? Why should anyone care if I lived or died?