When I was searching for some documents last night, I found something that I had forgotten.
It may not look like anything special, it’s just a drawing of a map that looks pretty crappy because I am not good at drawing. I don’t even know how old I was when I did it, probably around 15.
Others may not see anything on that map, but when I look at it, I see everything. I see the people, I see the park, the bookstore, the lake and that ruin. The old library, that little cafe by the lake, that place under the tree where he met Death. How beautiful it was when everything was covered with snow. That small apartment in that one building at the top. That mysterious encounter that one night when it was so hot.
It’s all in my head, but so much changed over the years, maybe I should draw a new map.
I put a lot of work into it back then, I remember what I saw in my mind. And it stands for so many things. It stands for my desperate attempt to escape reality, for my inability to finish things, for a time where I was all alone and everybody hated me. It’s so much more than just a drawing on the wall.