I guess, in order to understand life, I will have to write down what happened in my life. This text was the first letter I wrote to my therapist. At that time it was very confidential. I see no reason why should it stay like that. The reason I call my former family "former" it is because I do not recognize them as my family. As harsh as that sounds I have my reasons for that. The main reason is because I was sexualy and physicaly abused as a child by my former father. The second reason is because I was thrown out in the streets by my former sister because I supposedly complained about the way they displayed their US flag. I will add pictures as I go since this public library does not allow access to even the basic Paint program.

My real name is Bogdan Oliver Stochin and I was born in small Romanian town named Sinnicolau-Mare, which roughly translated means Saint Nicholas the Great. It is a multicultural town of many different ethnicities like, for example, Germans, Magyars, Serbs, Bulgarians etc.

This is a look at the center of the town. It looks better from above since it is hard to see how dilapidated most building actually are. My former parents live in the building facing the river in this picture.

I took this picture in 2006 when I visited my former parents for the first time since 1988. This is the sign at the entrance of the town.

My former family is Serbian. We speak Serbian at home, and my former mother has relatives in Serbia. My former mother and her former family were deported when she was young. Police came one day to my former mother’s parent’s house and told them to pack and that they were to relocate to another region of the country. She had to leave with her parents, abandoning their house and belongings. In the new place they had to build their own house out of mud bricks and start a new life in a new, foreign and inhospitable environment. My grand-grandfather died there. Eventually they came back. My former mother went to school and became a kindergarten teacher and eventually my kindergarten teacher. I remember her constantly yelling at kids and me hating when we had to go to bed in the afternoon those days.

I don’t remember much of my childhood, the early years.

When I was maybe 3 or 4 we were renting a wing of a house that at that time was owned by two older people of German descent. The house was near a pub that frequently played music late in the evening. I remember my former mother used to bathe me in the kitchen. We had a metal bathtub and I remember the water was always too hot and me telling my former mother that it is burning me. I remember that and my two little VW Beatle plastic cars, one white and one black and a corridor that belonged to the German owners filled with all kinds of toys. I used play alone on the parquet floor, imagining each floor tile being a part of a road or a parking lot. That’s also the earliest time I remember sleeping with my parents. I used to sleep between my former father and my former mother. In the summer time my parents were taking me to my grandparents’ house located in a small village called Cenei where most people were Serbian. My grandmother actually didn’t speak Romanian at all. She was soft-spoken and I cannot remember a time when she was angry. When she would disapprove of something she would just shake her head. And she was always working. She had a cow, few pigs, a couple sheep, (even a horse before I was born), chickens, a dog and a cat that all needed cleaning and care at certain hours in the day.

Here is my former mother in dark with another teacher.

Every house came with a piece of land that everyone used for growing legumes. Those were communist times when food was rationed and scarce but at my grandmas’ house there was always food. Every time we came back from her house the car was loaded with food.

Here is my grandmother, my former father’s mother, with my sister (cc 1966).

This is how the house looked like in 2006. The small house to the left is where my grandma slept and died. We slept in the house to the right. I find ironic that the current owners chose to paint the house in pink.

When I was about 7 we moved to an apartment building. That’s also the time when I started going to school. This is a photo of that building taken in 2006. The apartment with the AC unit belongs to my parents.

Around that time, maybe 8 or 9, I fell in love with a Magyar girl named Andy. She was so pretty. I don’t know why but I used to write her name down on a piece of paper, many times when I had chance. We played in the snow one day and my friend and I fooled around just to make her laugh. And I remember her laugh even now. It was so sweet, I could have stayed and played with her all day. But my former mother was very strict, she demanded from me to be home at precise hours and she would beat me when I would not. When I came home that day, I looked out on the window of our apartment and I could see the park where I played with Andy. And there she was, still playing with my friend, still laughing with him. Something shut of in me that day. Something happened with me. I don’t know what, but it hurt.

I don’t remember when I first started masturbating. Maybe 12-13, I don’t know. I do know how it happened. I was bathing in the bathtub. Above the tub hanged a removable shower head. So that day I was holding the shower head in my hand and spraying water over my body. Inadvertently (or not), I went with it over my penis and in an instant I had a powerful ejaculation to which followed a state of tranquility I never experienced. I could see the white semen cloud floating in the water and I starred at it. It stuck on my hand and had to wash it away with soap. I had no feelings of guilt or regret.

Since then I was hooked. It was extremely pleasurable and addictive. I think my former father saw me do it once later in years and I think both of my parents knew about it but no one ever said a word about it. Not even to this day, after 40 years of my life, never having sexual relations with a woman, still not a word. I was more comfortable with Eli’s mom to talk about masturbation later on, in the days when they were still talking to me. Regardless of how bizarre it was for me to talk with her about masturbation, she was very cool about it (or maybe she hid her true feelings or maybe her husband Vesselin who has a psychology degree also, advised her).

When I was about 7 we moved to an apartment building. That’s also the time when I started going to school. This is a photo of that building taken in 2006. The apartment with the AC unit belongs to my parents.

I sometimes think that this is my former family’s punishment for masturbation. Twenty years of isolation, of longing for a woman’s touch, to touch a woman, to love a woman. Thanks to my former family that chose a girl for me, a girl that I never liked, never loved, a girl that is still working hard trough my former family to make sure I am as miserable as possible, to fail every relationships, regret the masturbating years and turn my life into the hands of god. I don’t believe in god.

We were vacationing at some Black Sea resort and I would not leave the tent for days. I was too embarrassed. I don’t know why I even came there. I cut my own hair but I’m sure it was not my intention to look like that.

Between ages 12 and 17 I remember a lot misery mainly caused by my physical appearance. I was extremely thin and one accident (or maybe intentionally) in high school left me with one broken front tooth. It was a supposedly a friend of mine, who used to get all the attention from girls, that did it. But we had a real fight before, when I punched him once deliberately in the mouth. When the hair grew abundantly on my legs I stopped going to the swimming pool. Winters were a little better because I would wear underpants that made my legs look fuller. As far as relationships, I would get a lot of pity from girls, and sometimes ridicule. I would spend a lot of time with my friend Dan, who had an almost perfect body but was a little slow in school. We listened to music, missed boring classes and went Saturdays to the only dance club in town. After the high school graduation I didn’t see him that much. I sometimes blame him and my other friend Marius for trying to hook me up with a girl let’s say that was know to be easy to go to bed with. That happened another summer excursion to the Black Sea but this time only him and I went there. It was a complete failure again. The girl was friendly and kissed me on the mouth when I didn’t expect it. We were sitting on a bench and when I turned my head towards her, she simply kissed me without any reservations. I don’t think I would have done it. But after a few days I saw her with other guys much older and experienced. And I got sick again. The same as with Andy, something shuts of , maybe just a safety mechanism to cope with pain. And then latter that year with Delia. She came from a respectable former family. Her brother was known as guy that many girls would fall in love with. She was different I think. I don’t remember how we met. I remember vividly when she dumped me. That time the psychological pain surfaced and affected me physically. My parents took me to see a doctor. Don’t remember the diagnosis. I didn’t care. Apparently she did it because I stuck my leg between her legs when we slow danced at the club one day. Which I did, maybe not consciously. I think however that she was going out with me

out of pity again, or maybe to improve her image helping an ugly and retarded guy like me.

That lasted 9 months. The next November of 1986 I started going to something similar to what is in US a college. The mechanical college was in another town, relatively far from hometown, maybe a four-hour ride with the train, a ride sometimes in the wintertime with very little heat. It was something I did not choose to do. I was forced to go there simply because my sister and her boyfriend, which is currently my brother in law, went there too and they knew some professors that could be bribed and pass one the class. I was miserable there. And that girl Luminita that my parents chose for me made the things ten times worst. She was the daughter of a communist party leader and my sister or my brother in law arranged (I assume) for me to get a job where she worked also, doing maintenance on some heating central units that provided heat for entire blocks of city apartments.

In 2 years or so that I was there, my parents never visited me. I had a cousin, the son of my former mother’s sister, who was a captain fireman (in Romania, they had similar ranks for firemen as in the army) who never visited also. I have not spoken with him probably in 20 years. I don’t know why. My aunt was a zealous Christian, and now, indirectly, I understood that she sometimes called me “Lolo”, a denigrating term for someone addicted to sex I think. She probably found out I was masturbating whenever I could from my former mother. She died of breast cancer. Some doctor somewhere did not take the lump on her breast seriously, and she ended up with a cancer in advanced stages. I was already in the US when she died.

About one month after starting working there, I wrote this girl Luminita (which I believe was a setup) a poem and gave it to her to read. I don’t know why I did that. Maybe because she talked most of the time with another, older, woman and I wanted a little of her attention. She read it and said nothing. I was a little mad, and in the spur of the moment, called her stupid and apologized for it immediately after. My life started to change to worst since that event. I started to be transferred to all kinds of other departments and I landed working for department of sewers, connecting water pumps to inundated apartment buildings basements. Pumps that were pumping foul smelling, sewer

When I was 18 and barely (I only got a passing grade in Romanian language) graduating from high school, it was mandatory for all able-bodied males of age 18 and over to register for service in the army. In November of 1985 I left my home and started the service that lasted 9 months. I made new friends in the army and they were the first friends that were smarter than me. I was amazed how many things they knew and how well they could express them. Regimented army life and maybe lack of relationships and the danger of failure associated with it, did me good, I think.

water out of basements, punishment for insulting the daughter of a communist party leader. On top of all this, I was supposed to go to school in the evenings. I could never study. I was lonely. I had few friends. I longed for a woman. I still do.

One day I visited another far cousin, Mara I think was her name, which my sister knew better. She was a girl and she had another girl as a roommate. Her roommate was very pretty but I knew I don’t have any chances with her. Yet that day she had a short skirt on and she sat in such a way that I could see her panties very clearly. I think my cousin asked her what is she doing exposing herself like that, but I don’t remember her answer. I just know that my cousin left and I was left alone with this pretty girl I never saw before in my life, sitting on the bed and with her continuing to expose her panties, talking to me pretending nothing was wrong. Strangely I did not feel the need or the impulse to touch her. Or maybe I was afraid of being ridiculed. I knew I had no chances with her. Not only because I looked like a skeleton, but also because it was a setup I believed.

I was transferred after a couple months to another department doing plumbing jobs. This department was in the Old Town. The main town had two sections, the Old Town and the New Town. So I had to take the bus mornings and evenings between the two towns. Sometimes in the morning or late in the evening, the buses going between the two sections of the town were packed with people. I mean really packed, with people hanging outside of the bus with only with one hand, going 60K/h. They were so packed that people often had to touch one another. One day a woman turned her back and positioned herself in such a way that her bottom directly was rubbing against my penis. I did not know what to do but I didn’t move away. After that, anytime I could I would position myself so that my penis would rub against the bottom of foreign women I never met before. I did not find it extremely pleasurable and I don’t think I ever got an erection. But I loved the feel of a woman’s bottom, how it fit perfectly between my two legs, between the curve made by the connection of my abdomen with my legs . One day I followed a woman that allowed herself to be touched like that. I knocked at her door and she said in a very tense voice that she would call her husband or something like that. I did not think for a moment that this behavior might be immoral and depraved. I did not think anything at all about it.

I wasn’t interested much in studying those days even though I had a lot to study. My roommate was a Serbian guy older than me and from the same village where my grandmother lived. He was school teacher with a body of a weight lifter. I enjoyed his books that sometimes he would leave for me to read. I read important literary works that I didn’t even know existed, but now I cannot even remember. We didn’t see each other much, he was gone most of the time and I was gone most of the time too, mornings at work and evenings at school.

This is me alone in the room taking pictures of me when I was supposed to be studying. I was maybe 20 here and it was the last picture taken of me in Romania. It was hard for me to concentrate even then. Below two more.

After failing my second year and my sister with my brother in law failing to convince a professor to pass me one class, I decided I could not go on and live that life again. I was ashamed that I failed and I did not want to return home. So I decided I would flee the country and start a new life. And so I did.

One Saturday evening I took my bike and started on the road towards the border of Romania with Serbia (Yugoslavia at that time). I was 23 years old and still looked like I was 18. I left around six o’clock in the afternoon and soon I realized it was still light outside and I could be seen. So I hid in a ditch until it got dark then proceeded with my ride towards the border which was approximately 10 kilometers from my town. The road passed trough a small village that at that time was enveloped in complete darkness because of the energy savings rules imposed by the communist regime. There was absolutely no one on the road besides me. Reaching closer to the border, a patrol car appeared in the distance. I immediately ran in the field next to the road, hiding myself as best as I could. Fortunately I was not seen. After riding my bike for some time I reached another village that was very close to the border. I ditched my bike there and proceeded on foot towards the border that I could see in the distance. I reached it, climbed over the barbed wire fence and I was free. The patrol car returned after a couple of minutes and was shining their lights in the direction where I was hiding. But that is all what they did, after 15 minutes they turned around and left. I got up and started walking through deeply ploughed land. It was very difficult to walk, the darkness was complete and sometimes my foot would land in the furrows making me almost loose my balance. But after a couple hours I reached the first village in Serbia. I new that when I saw the name of a street written in Serbian language. The goal was to get to another city near the border where I had someone that could help me. My sister was already in Serbia legally, with a passport, visiting relatives. She knew about my plan. So as I walked on the road in that village late at night, a bus stopped in front me and the driver asked me where I was going. I told him in Serbian language that I wanted to go to that city and he agreed to take me there. In the city everything was different. I was surprised how well lit the streets were. It was cold so I went inside the vestibule of an apartment building, hid under the stairs and tried to get some sleep. Early in the morning I went to see our acquaintances were I called my sister immediately and the next day I was on the road again with my sister and her friend towards the Austrian border.

The Austrian border was easier to pass. My sister went back home and I took the first train towards Graz, the first major city close to the border.

The cultural shock was tremendous when I got there. I was walking trough the city aimlessly, looking at the shop windows and seeing all the beautifully packed products, all lit with bright lights, fruits and vegetables that were never available in Romania during winter time. Walking like that, I found a police station where I rang the bell and showed them my Romanian id. The policemen were nice, offering me coffee and promising to find a Serbian translator. After an hour or so the Serbian translator came indeed and I was able to tell him how I got there. He told me that I would have to spend a week or so in jail until they would “process” me. I met another Romanian young guy that fled with his girlfriend. He was not very attractive and I could not figure out what did his girlfriend see in him. I found that out later, in the prison’s common showers. He was a guy with a penis larger than normal. Anyhow, after 2 weeks in jail, I was transferred to an immigration camp, now I know it is one of the largest in Europe, named Traiskirchen. Every immigrant needed to stay for a couple of weeks until temporary documents would be issued. That’s were I saw Christina, a very beautiful girl. After a couple of weeks, all immigrants were assigned to different hotels sponsored by the government. I happened to be assigned to a hotel that was very close to the hotel were Christina was staying. I had the same crush on her as I had it with Andy. But Christina was religious and did not like me I believe, she maybe had pity again for me as most girls that met me. The room I was sharing with other two Romanian people, was always filled with smoke as one of the guy smoked all the time. It was awful. I made some other friends in some other hotel. It was a Serbian guy that claimed to have a doctorate degree who lived with a Magyar woman that had a daughter with someone else. She was nice and understood that I had a crush on Christina. She even helped me gather wildflowers for her one day. We would go to Christina’s hotel and I was even alone with her but could not approach her. That kind of upset her I think and she became colder towards me. This situation coupled with the constant noise and smoke in my room, coupled also with an incident in a shopping store

were I was caught by the security guards with a deodorant for Christina in my pocket that my Serbian friend slipped it to me with my consent, led to my getting so drunk that I fell into a coma. I was taken to the hospital where I spent a couple of days. Soon after my release I was notified that I would be transferred to another hotel (they are called “pansion” in German).

Gasthoff Freissmuth is were I landed and this was the hotel where I met Eli.

The Freissmuths were very nice and hard working. It was nice to see a whole former family generation living together in the same location, from grand grand parents to the youngest members of the former family. It was quiet, clean and calm. I will never forget those times, probably the best times in my life. I took German lessons when I was young, one of our neighbors was German and a good friend with my former mother. So it was not hard for me to start speaking German. Soon anyone that needed to communicate with the Freissmuths came to me for help. I think the Freissmuths even wanted me to marry one of their daughters but after Eli arrived, everything changed.

I was still 23 when Eli arrived with her mom and his little brother Kamen from Bulgaria. Her mom’s husband Vesselin, worked with me at different odd jobs that we could get. I did not pay much attention to Eli when she came however her mom made the first step and asked me if I had an extra spoon or fork, I forgot exactly. I spoke Serbian and I could partially understand Bulgarian language and they could partially understand the Serbian language. Both languages are Slavic with many common words. So that is how I met Eli. We were soon left alone at the table and we were talking and playing cards games. One evening as I came back from work she hid in the garage where I would return the moped Freissmuths let me borrow for commute to work. As I was parking the moped she came out and tried to scare me. I think she wanted to get close and kiss me. The reason I think that was because of one other evenings when we went in what was a poorly lit recreational area, away from the hotel were we were staying. She came close, touched my stomach and attempted to kiss me. I panicked and took a step backwards. It was an embarrassing moment that took me by surprise. Nevertheless my heart was pounding in my chest. I don’t know what she thought of that and I don’t know why I stepped back. I think now that I was thinking of her still as a child. When we returned to the hotel I put my arm around her shoulder. I wanted to console her the best I could. She did after that try to figure out why I did not want to kiss her, pretending to eat toothpaste to send me a message that maybe my breath was foul (which may have possibly been so, I had cavities and a poor dental hygiene). She made even a suggestive picture of her taking a bath exposing her knee a little bit. But it was to no avail. I was already preparing for the disaster. I knew she would have to leave and maybe never see her again. I saw her later in

the years, and found out all the preparations for disaster did not work. I attempted to cut off one of my veins of my leg at Freissmuths while Eli was desperately trying to get kissed. I did not succeed. Now I don’t know why I believe this, but I think she maybe did masturbate me at night, her room was across my room. The bathroom picture was maybe trying to suggest me to take a bath. I cared very little about myself.

My former mother and my former father came to visit me after the revolution in Romania toppled the communist regime. She talked to Eli and I’m not sure what she told her but I think she told her that I have a girlfriend in Romania that loves me but I don’t know. Or maybe later she told her that. The day after Eli left, after dinner I went upstairs towards my room. As I climbed the stairs I thought I heard Eli calling her little brother Kamen and that is when I broke down in tears. I went to my room and just cried with my face in the pillow so no one could hear me.

After another couple of weeks I sought psychiatric help by writing letters to about ten psychiatrists I could find and one answered me. It was a woman and she listened as I tried to explain her of a wall that exists between me and girls and women in general and how I could not overcome it. I don’t remember what she said and I did not understand all what she said. But that was the only thing we talked about.

I wrote Eli a bizarre letter one day from Austria, a month maybe after she left. I don’t know why I wrote her among other things that I was masturbating. I don’t remember what else I wrote. I think I was trying to be sincere and tell her everything. I was maybe subconsciously giving her a message that encouraged her to masturbate so she wouldn’t feel the sexual pressure to meet other boys. We talked on the phone from Austria and then later from Chicago when I came here in 1989. I had dreams with her. Not sexual. I don’t remember ever having sexual desires for her. Not even when we went to the water park in Montreal years later. That day, I desperately tried to avoid going to the water park because I did not want to be seen undressed, but she insisted. I was totally embarrassed and self conscious all the time.

So I kept calling her telling her that I love her and that I am crazy for her. She cried a lot on the phone. Probably she was seeing other boys. I think she talked to Dana or the other girl, or even my former mother because she asked me one day on the phone what do I want from her, exactly the same question I asked Dana in one of my letters. I told her straight up that I want her no one else.

Eli’s mom sent me one day greeting card with a Chinese dragon and pearl. In it she wrote me a message ending “Love Aida, Vesselin, Eli and Kami”. I was ecstatic at first but then I tried to find out what was the meaning of the Chinese dragon with the pearl. A Chinese man at work told me that it was a legend and that the dragon was always chasing the pearl but could never get it, or something similar. I was devastated again. I went home and I burned the card. But I kept calling her on and off. Vesselin, who was her stepfather called me one day, the only time he called me, and invited me to go Montreal were they lived. I drove there like a lunatic. I had a used car, a Nissan 200SX, I remember that car well. The first day I bought it someone hit me in the back. I couldn’t stop since I did not have my drivers license yet nor insurance. Anyhow, on the road to Montreal I pushed that car to the limits. I drove it maybe 160 m/h. I got to Montreal in less than a day. I wanted to see Eli, I never thought of having sex with her. She was 18 I think. I stayed at their apartment which I liked a lot. I liked everything if she was there. I was in the clouds since her parents were trying somehow to tell me that I have no chances

with Eli. And I also could not understand why they wanted me to see the movie “The Clockwork Orange”. I never understood what they wanted to tell me: that Eli was raped like the girl in the movie or that I am like Alex, and individual bent on violence. I remember giving Eli a Depeche Mode tape with the album named “Violator”. They asked me at one point what do I consider myself to be as far as ethnicity. I replied naively that I am 50% American, 25% Romanian and 25% Serbian. When I left her parents left me mixed messages. I think now they wanted me to stay, renounce US and possibly return to Romania where they thought other girl was waiting for me. I did not stay. I came back to Chicago and continued calling them sporadically. Until one day.

I was staying at Paul’s house. Paul was an older guy that married a younger girl. Paul was from the same town where I grew up in. He lived very close to us, to the house next to the pub. I think my former mother arranged for him to call me live with them. I occupied the room next to their master bedroom and when they had sex I could hear very clearly his wife moaning. There was only a cheap drywall between the rooms so everything could be heard. I hated that.

I was working at Sigmatron and they were trying to get rid of me I think. The section where I was working previously, moved to Mexico and the new department were I was transferred to did not need new people. I must mention that for one week I stopped eating and drinking water. I don’t know why I did that. I think it maybe it was suggested to me by Paul’s wife, who was belonging to a strict Baptist Romanian church. When I ate for the first time in a week I had very strong abdomen pains. Driving home from work these pains increased in intensity so much that I had to call an ambulance. Doctors thought that I had passed a kidney stone. Anyway, at Sigmatron I was put to work on the night shift with one black guy who had connections with the management. He was playing music at night so loud, it was unbearable. I got aggravated and furiously I kicked the guy in the ass one night. The next day the management came and informed me that they could not tolerate me anymore and that I was being let go. It was another blow and I cried in my room.

Then came the blow from Paul. After some weeks without a job, Paul let me know that he would like to use my credit cards and that if I refused he would throw me out. I refused, I packed all my belonging in my Nissan that was now half junked after another accident on Kennedy expressway almost bent the car in two. The phone calls to

Montreal did not stop. Eli already told me she hated me but I insisted to come to Montreal even though her father told me not come there. With all my belongings stuffed in the back of my car, I started the journey to Montreal. The Canadian border patrol was a little surprised to see the car loaded with all the stuff and they have questioned me where I was going. I told them that I am going to see a friend. This time I drove slowly partly because the car was in the state it was, partly because I didn’t know what to expect. The 400$ arctic sleeping bag that I have bought did not hold heat to well in the car. So I had to keep the engine running. It was winter time and it got colder as I got closer to Montreal. Finally after one day, I arrived in the evening in Montreal. Her parents, Eli and I were sitting at a table. Her mom smoked a lot. And they told me that I can never be together with Eli. After a very silent pause, I asked for a cigarette. I never smoked before.

It was so bizarre, I knew that this would happen yet I kept going forward. One the phone Vesselin repeatedly told me not to come there, yet I felt at that time that his message had a double meaning, that in fact he wanted me come there. And maybe they did wanted me come there and see for myself that Eli doesn’t want me, so that they and Eli could finally have peace.

The reason why I have bought sleeping pills I don’t remember. I sat quietly in my car and tried to make sense of everything but like a dark cloud, a desire to end all of it hovered in my head. I wrote in a journal I had since my days in college in Romania. I wrote a good bye letter for my former mother and former father and drove my car into a shopping mall parking lot. I did not have much gasoline left, and about 40$. I didn’t take too many pills maybe 6 or 7. The horizon started fading in the distance as a calm and peaceful feeling filled me. When I woke up someone was squeezing the tendons of my shoulder. It was an ambulance paramedic. I spent the night at the hospital and the next day I called again Eli and her mom answered. She asked me if I wanted her to see me at the hospital, I said of course yes. I have totally denied what happened the previous day. When she saw me, Aida, I think asked me why I didn’t take more pills and looked at me in a very strange, bone chilling way. I think she was referring to a poem I wrote about my former mother when I frequented the Truman College. I wrote about a certain look of my former mother that “petrifies”.

With the money that I had left I took a cab to the police station where I was informed that my car was impounded with all my stuff in it. The price to get out my car I could not afford. So I gathered a few things I could from my car in my backpack and left.

I’ve bought some food and a bottle of beer. I don’t know why I bought it, I didn’t like beer. The first night I spent in the vestibule of an apartment building next to Eli’s building. I was running a high fever but luckily I had a few antibiotic pills in my backpack. The next day something even more embarrassing happened to me. Maybe the most embarrassing thing ever. As I walked on the street, suddenly I felt the need to go the bathroom. I have not had a bowel movement probably in 3 or 4 days because a lot of time I’ve spent in the car, driving. But that day I could not find a bathroom and I knew I could not hold on anymore. And I didn’t. I have soiled myself. The bathroom was about 50m from me. I tried to clean myself as best as I could but still the smell still persisted. Later that evening I was able to take a shower at the Old Brewery homeless shelter. When I called Eli again, she told me that now “she would have to kill me”, figuratively of course. And I found out what that meant weeks later. From time to time I came to their house and one evening a car was waiting outside with a person inside. I know now that was the same car that followed me when I visited Eli last time. She told me then drive as fast as I

could, and I did. The car behind us, which I think was her boyfriend at that time, could not make a red light and spoon around in an intersection. When they caught up with us, I could see their mad expressions. But Eli never said anything. She just looked forward.

As I turned around, I saw Eli coming towards me, pass me and go towards the car. I could feel the tension in her walk. She walked right next to me uttering no words. And I could not either. It took me by surprise. That was “the killing” that she promised me.

Eventually I got arrested. They called the police and they came and took me with them. No matter how weird it sounds but the jail was nice. A single cell with a clean bed with no microscopic crawlers to fear for, good food and in time, no more cold and access to shower was no comparison what I was experiencing previously. I would call Eli when I could. One time her mom called the police again and they put me into a solitary cell. It was brutal! The cell was just enough cold so one could not get sick and not be able to fall asleep. I was stripped off all my clothes except my underwear and left to spend all night in there. I walked as long as I could, when I stopped walking I just sat down and braced myself for the night, curled in a fetal position. It took about a month for me to be deported to US.

I returned to Paul’s house. I shouldn’t have done that but I did. And I left that house a couple of times and Paul came to pick me up from somewhere in Indiana where I was walking for miles on the highway. It was my way of coping. Until I could not walk anymore because of a blister that transformed itself into a huge hole in my foot. I’ve lost my backpack and all the pictures of Eli with it. A guy that picked me up on the highway left with it. And the journal that I’ve had for years.

Since then a lot has happened. I went to college and got a Bachelors degree in Electronic Engineering. Since then, only one girl I’ve attempted to make friends with which failed of course, and two other women, former girlfriends of Ed, my boss.

So where do I stand today? Up until last year I was masturbating regularly maybe once a day and watching pornographic movies. I don’t know how my sister found out but she knew about it. Around 2005 I was corresponding with a woman from Romania, Alina after my former father gave me her email address.

I don’t understand what happened, but from the start she told me that she loves me and that she wants to marry me and that I should go as fast as I can to Romania (I believe that was maybe a trick for me to go to Romania since at that time I haven’t been there in more than 20 years). I said ok but I didn’t go to Romania, I felt something fishy was going on. After a couple of months she informed me that she is married in Canada.

I wish they would stop playing games with me. I wish they would stop trying to make me go out with ultra-religious girls.

I am an atheist.

Some pictures.

Me at 5-6. I always had problems with my teeth, and in this picture the inflammation of the jaw is visible.

My former father and I at some ruins.

My former father in a pub.

My former father

after a fishing trip.

My former father in a pub, take 2.

This is my boss Ed with one of his short lived affairs, Terry who managed to make me uncomfortable by touching my hand with her breast.

My boss at the Christmas party. Next to me is sitting a woman that Ed wanted me to date (a former GF of his!!!)

This is Alina that former mother and former father wanted me to marry.