poison alway does

For so many years the headaches from my neighbors’ poison…I will tell the truth again: I did nothing wrong, my life and my character were perfect. I was continuously tortured since 1984 when I was 13. In my first years in this city, Bucharest, I was not poisoned. Since the years 2000 – poisoned exactly the way I already told. I could not finish the story of my imprisoned and tortured life and probably they won’t let me do this. After my father’s death it was worse and my mother too was worse towards me. I was always gentle and kind and I did nothing wrong and I don’t have sins. Since 2006, after moving in my own apartment, I noticed that my neighbors above let flowing some kind of gas – by the noise they do in my bathroom, a noise that isn’t water flow for certain sometimes – for hours at night or day, they have different kinds of such noises. I did not believe that it was poison just because I met once in the psychiatric hospital a woman who was imprisoned there and forced to tell the truth that she was poisoned with gas by her neighbors. But I did not question her sanity back then , I never made mistakes of any kind my whole life, like I told you. In my first years I did not believe that I was poisoned. Anyway, my smell was accommodated and I could not make the difference. I was not aloud to cover the hole towards the common bathroom “chimney”, though I asked for this and the neighbor below me, who tortures me with politics on TV, took care with another neighbor – a house painter – that my hole was left open in spite of me paying money and asking for letting it covered. Nevertheless my neighbor below has that opening closed in her apartment. I did not believe though it was a very strange noise. I went to my mother’s place where the air is ok and only in the past 2 years I recovered my smell and I observed that the air in my apartment is horrible! Indeed horrible. I could not have stayed with my mother because of her, not only because she harasses me. I repeat the air is horrible to breathe and it is for certain the cause of many nausea feelings and headaches and circulatory troubles. And peripheral neuropathy, etc. Of course I cannot blame the neighbors above for sure. Anyway in the past years they took my things and photos and tortured me with noises continuously and put dirt in my rooms and greasiness on my doors inside and false official acts in my drawers. Anyway none of them respects me and today a beggar, who apparently owns more money than me, mocked me with coarse appellation and said that I promised him 2 lei, which fact is not true. In all these years since 2006 my neighbors did not get older and their kids are not looking as if they were 16-17, but the same as in the beginning. And outdoors the neighborhood is wild each time I go out – thousands of cars and people staring and mocking me and below my apartments since March until November they come here and yell vulgar words every year, etc.

As for my suicide – forget it…months ago I realized that i won’t do this, my life was perfect, I cannot do this. My respect for goodness and beauty was immense all my life. Though you all deserted me and left me alone and totally isolated for so many years, without the slightest guilt or insanity from my part (I still can tell and I still remember everything). No one wants me and everyone pushed me to commit suicide. I am not Narcissus to commit suicide eventually and I am not Oedipus to destroy my sight (that is illusory like any other human sense) and I am not Socrates to commit ritual suicide (because that was not trial or condemnation of philosophy as a matter of fact) . I might have been all of them because others or the circumstances prearranged all of these….I was all of them but none. I deeply think that life is something very good and beautiful and necessary and my respect stayed the same through the years and whenever I was pushed to the limit I asked myself the same question — do I hurt life or existence of things by killing myself? I will not commit suicide — first of all in order to protect whatever may be connected with the link between my body and my spirit or with the dissolution of this link — if that will happen sometime because of the necessity of the whole. If I were someone else (it does not matter whom) I would not have killed a woman like I am and like I always was. Paradoxically, my too deep maternal instinct — the cause of my brightest happiness and of my deepest pain — demands me to avoid by all means committing suicide. (It is true that I disliked being poisoned — and that was true, or tortured by any means, and I disliked the stealing of my humble belongings (old or new)….but this will pass…someday).


the evil Gypsy girl who attacked me today, November 8th, 2015

I never was the object of physical brutality like today…except for my parents who beat me in my teen and adult years with horrible violence and the psychiatric patients who beat me and stole my clothes in the hospital. Today I went out from my block of apartments passing through the corridor that inspired once a haiku to me. A young Gypsy girl about whom I already told what she did to me, came unexpectedly from my back, on the left side where there was little space between me and the wall. She could have make me fall and get really hurt and injured by a stronger blow. Then she screamed (almost) at me that I am fat like a pig or cow, and she repeated this, that I cover the whole corridor and she has no place to walk besides me and she repeated this…of course it was not true. Then she spoke even harsher words. I never sent someone to hell, but this time, while she continued to look with evil eyes at me, I said “go to hell” to her, with a less stronger word (naiba in Romanian) because I was tired and I don’t understand her hatred. I remember once when I was young and I sang songs to Gypsy children and they seemed to like it, and I remember how I was a primary school teacher for them, and how I listened to their stories about deportation in WWII and their habits, and I recorded them on tape and photographed them with care and love…and I always helped the poor Gypsies in the countryside. It seems that these Gypsies from the city are really evil…once when I was in Cluj they gave me lice on the street (I was only 20 years old) and maybe it was them who gave me lice when I got infested in 2014, I don’t really know who was guilty, but I had to sell one of the 2 gold rings of my mother in order to buy special shampoo :(((

On 11th is my father’s patron saint day in Romania, he used to celebrate this day when he was still alive. His name was Victor. Today is holy Sunday in Romania.

On our official Romanian Orthodox site they make advertising with bare women legs for French stockings, that’s what appears when I open it :((


I also remember Andersen’s story about the Snow Queen and how I empathized with the heroine, the little girl who was abducted by a band of thieves (maybe Gypsyes or not) who did not kill her because a little robber girl protected her. Now it is the opposite. I always was the good and innocent one, yet they all destroyed me since 1984.

Read 5th story, if you did not know it: