ways_out

The first things I did after I came back from my cousin’s funeral I drew a picture of him. It was an awfully bad drawn portrait. Strangely enough only 2 years after, I tried to draw a human face and it worked out perfectly well. But when my cousin died I wanted to capture his face so badly I couldn’t actually draw his face at all. Even though I was 10, the drawing looked as if it was made by a 5-year-old. So I compensated by drawing the pattern of my cousin’s shirt. It was a white and light blue check-board shirt made of flannel. It suited my cousin’s eyes very well and the material was very nice to touch. Each check-board in the pattern was tiny. I took a light blue pencil and I’ve spent next 5 hours colouring each tiny square of his shirt. Methodically, I coloured one, and then didn’t colour the 4 next to it, to make sure they created the correct pattern. The pencil got broken in the end, and I finished the last bit of the sleeve with a marker. It wasn’t the same colour and I was disappointed. Nevertheless, after spending hours on this drawing I could reconnect with my cousin. His life ended very suddenly. As a 10 year old I couldn’t comprehend this sudden loss of a connection to someone I really loved. We were best friends. You take love for granted when you’re 10. And he was only 3 years older. It was the first time I became aware of how unpredictable death was. Plus, the idea of my own immortality hit me. I was 10. I could have been dead already then.

I started reading Bible. Each time ‘truth spoke to me’ I underlined the sentences I liked. This way I could come back and reconnect with the words of wisdom.

Three years later I found myself in a cult.

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