An extra Chapter 2016 May 4th. One week and it’s four years ago my mother died I can see the house of my parents sitting over here, it seems unreal. You almost finished reading this book, can someone understand why no one, but really no one treated me as a severely traumatized second generation victim? In the present I read daily on Facebook a lot of stories, nobody is it allowed to say so, went through this kind of cruelties during their whole life’s. I am not playing a victim and I enjoying it. I AM (BITTER). No complete not able to contain what happened. I feel like an alien, not possible to let you understand too. Years ago I opened a book I would prefer to publish a book with thousands and thousands empty pages. Because when you are not able to catch history in words then remain silence. I wrote an aphorism about it, that one was meant in a positive way. In spite of my credo never compare illnesses and problems, I have nothing in common with all the others ‘if’ then it are the survivors of the camps not my generation. Probably again a lot of people become angry and irritated thing I am exaggerating / I over-color and much more synonyms. It’s remembrance day in the Netherlands to day the 4th of May 2016 I am ill and no help today that’s the only thing that fits this situation. Another book I started with: “it’s better to die young than suffering a long time” the opening of the documentary, Manja, a life behind invisible bars, the same words. It has been better if I kept silence forever. No one to blame, no one blaming me. Again a postpone of the release of this book. The first time in December was not on purpose, waiting and waiting at last I found out, there was a failure at distributor and then I started rewriting, rewriting again. While I was correcting I saw terrible mistakes, there exist no book without one or more errors, but my opinion is, when you are not able to write a book in another language than your mother tongue. DON’T And that’s why the book has a delay after delay and not because of the errors there will be only more and more There is no decent / proper way to end it the book or my life A wink? The book of my lifefully aware that billions of people are suffering for century’s and worldwide. So how do I dare to say so… you noticed, I hope my philosophy/ my world-view is correct and always trying to differentiate and into perspective. I failed in a such a terrible way. Flabbergasted. There is a Dutch writer Ellen Santen, daughter from a resistance fighter, her book title TWO MINUTES are not enough. In the Netherlands at eight o’clock in the evening 2 minutes only 2 minutes of silence. Rather deaf I do hear ringing church bells meant as honoring the dead’s, silence doesn’t exist. Now it’s exact eight o’clock and I am typing and still unexpected I am choking, weep without tears. My heart is beating of course otherwise I was deadmy heart is locked. Indeed I have to be alone…now or forever? I really thought there wouldn’t a difference today, every day I am living with it. I thought I was prepared, but I never will. I really thought there wouldn’t a difference today, every day I am living with it. Never understanding others. Does it come because not a consideration for others anymore, not the war of my family, the confrontation with my ruined life? Not new at all using words over and over again and suddenly they have another dimension. Obvious it’s much more easy to take care of other people. This time not a delay, I wanted to wait. Maybe I cancel the entire book in spite of months of too hard working. Only a mood? I can’t tell, the feeling structural but if I remain really to be silent. Lots of times feeling like this it’s becoming worse if I already disappeared, decomposed. Not new at all using words over and over again and suddenly they have another dimension. Always aware never conscious? Strange so strange, my whole past seventy years seems to be gone away. All the time so angry because of the wrong diagnoses. Now I am silent. Never ceremony’s for me anymore.Many times in my life, the called me theatrical and I felt so sad / angry and misjudged. I only can say, it was true my whole life was one big theater. Not on the moments they were thinking I was. But always pretending being normal and adjusting , my whole life an act. At last I am Manja Croiset and that’s why the depersonalisation disappeared, more happy? On the contrary…
I found myself, but lost the struggle for life definitely.
Jezus Mina, dit zie ik op facebook van Wim Daniëls, ik heb benaderd of hij nog in dit boek mee mag en ook voor een nieuwe druk van OVER DE SHOAH DIE NOOIT VOORBIJ GAAT, maar er is net een nieuwe.
Het heft de titel de BEVRIJDING, ik kan niet goed zien en ik ken hem niet goed genoeg. Ik heb hem gesproken het is niet van hem, lang heft hij geproberd het te achterhalen en hijs er niet in geslaagd, dan ga ik het gebruiken met de vermelding Nomen Nescio
Voor mij is het “DE BEVRIJDING DIE NIET KWAM”