Ugh, but life is trying
Turns out I have been in quite a lot of danger lately which I had not, under any fucking circumstances, expected.
Luckily for me, mum was over from Norway and found what could have cost me, ah… Most likely, my life?
Jesus fuck.
So, turns out my passport has been displaying exactly where I was born, which also is classified information of the highest level. I’ve got other names, but seeing my fingerprints are connected to that fucking passport, I… Gods, by displaying that hellish place on my passport, those fuckers could have claimed me, and gotten away with it.
I… I’ve been travelling around the last five years, and I’ve been carrying that fucking passport around. Had we landed in the wrong place, they could have detained me.
I just… fucking hells.
I’m still on that goddamn list, far from safe. I’m still on the hit-list. My family is still searched for. Even though my dad is dead. So, from the bottom of my black heart: Dear shitty secret police, the guy you are still looking for is gone. He. Is. Dead. I fucking saw it with my own eyes, okay?
And, you aren’t getting my mum.
Only they have my finger prints. And until my mum found the mistake in my pass, they literally had me, next time I landed in the wrong country.
Like.
Fandom wank? Means nothing - see, the guy who tortured my parents non stop for half a week, and me later on, who sent assassins to northern Europe to find us, who forced us to go undercover, is still looking for me, and could have got his dirty hands on me. Because of a fucking human mistake printed out on my passport.
Puts things in perspective doesn’t it?
I think that last Friday will go to history as the day I fucking broke down, in front of my mother. Not pretty, but hey… Last time I saw that fucker, he had his hand on my inner thigh, telling me I’d grown up into a beautiful thing, and exactly where was my dad and mum? And, did I see how I was surrounded? Did I see all those cars, with men inside? Who would drag me to hell, and report me MIA? Because he knew all my secrets already, and did his hand against my inner thigh scare me…?
Gods. Fucking. Help me.
Funny how you can remember details so well.
I hate him.
I spent a lifetime learning to kill, profile, and fight off his kind. And, on a good day, I have to remind me that he won’t ever get his hands on me again. And, then this shit happens.
At least the new passport is fixed. I spent two hours while the police called all necessary offices (seeing she didn’t have authority to see my files) in order to make sure there is no trace of me in Europe, that can be sent to that shitty place. Because that happens, and I would have to start all over again. Probably without my mates, and kid.
I just…
Yeah, life is trying.
Everything else can go fuck itself with a rusty pike.
[ cross-posted to my private Tumblr ]
Luckily for me, mum was over from Norway and found what could have cost me, ah… Most likely, my life?
Jesus fuck.
So, turns out my passport has been displaying exactly where I was born, which also is classified information of the highest level. I’ve got other names, but seeing my fingerprints are connected to that fucking passport, I… Gods, by displaying that hellish place on my passport, those fuckers could have claimed me, and gotten away with it.
I… I’ve been travelling around the last five years, and I’ve been carrying that fucking passport around. Had we landed in the wrong place, they could have detained me.
I just… fucking hells.
I’m still on that goddamn list, far from safe. I’m still on the hit-list. My family is still searched for. Even though my dad is dead. So, from the bottom of my black heart: Dear shitty secret police, the guy you are still looking for is gone. He. Is. Dead. I fucking saw it with my own eyes, okay?
And, you aren’t getting my mum.
Only they have my finger prints. And until my mum found the mistake in my pass, they literally had me, next time I landed in the wrong country.
Like.
Fandom wank? Means nothing - see, the guy who tortured my parents non stop for half a week, and me later on, who sent assassins to northern Europe to find us, who forced us to go undercover, is still looking for me, and could have got his dirty hands on me. Because of a fucking human mistake printed out on my passport.
Puts things in perspective doesn’t it?
I think that last Friday will go to history as the day I fucking broke down, in front of my mother. Not pretty, but hey… Last time I saw that fucker, he had his hand on my inner thigh, telling me I’d grown up into a beautiful thing, and exactly where was my dad and mum? And, did I see how I was surrounded? Did I see all those cars, with men inside? Who would drag me to hell, and report me MIA? Because he knew all my secrets already, and did his hand against my inner thigh scare me…?
Gods. Fucking. Help me.
Funny how you can remember details so well.
I hate him.
I spent a lifetime learning to kill, profile, and fight off his kind. And, on a good day, I have to remind me that he won’t ever get his hands on me again. And, then this shit happens.
At least the new passport is fixed. I spent two hours while the police called all necessary offices (seeing she didn’t have authority to see my files) in order to make sure there is no trace of me in Europe, that can be sent to that shitty place. Because that happens, and I would have to start all over again. Probably without my mates, and kid.
I just…
Yeah, life is trying.
Everything else can go fuck itself with a rusty pike.
[ cross-posted to my private Tumblr ]