OK, so NO, this is NOT a scream for help (even though getting some help on getting internet-famous is of course appreciated and very welcomed), it is more like the truth about how SOMEBODY completely ruined parts of my childhood.
When I grew up there were 5 of us in our family. There was my dad, my mum, my sister, I and then… then there was SOMEBODY. Somebody had this amazing way of never really being there, but in some way always being present. Things like “can SOMEBODY please prepare the table” or “SOMEBODY needs to take the garbage out” were pretty standard.
OK, you get it. Of course you get it – you’re not retarded.
I was not retarded either, I was just a kid with wild imagination. TRUE. I am convinced that I have I was convinced I had (ok ok, it’s still there, but anyway…) a monster looking something like a lion (but black and bigger teeth) under my bed I also have had 2 imaginary friends living in my closet (but we will get back to them some other time, because I don’t want to joke around about them as they are my friends).
So for me, this SOMEBODY was a quite big man (must have been, because he was supposedly able to do some of the heavy job, at least that’s what mum said) and also quite EVIL – because he never did what he was supposed to do, and therefore mischievous by nature. Normally he hung out in the closets or on the second floor (when all the lights were out there), but sometimes he would sneak around the house in the middle of the night which is why needing to go to the bathroom in the dark is was a near-to-death-experience. This part REALLY is true. My mum said so. She said “Somebody must have eaten all the chocolate over night, because there is no more” and “Somebody made a lot of noise last night”. You see, I’m not crazy, nor retarded – what kid that believes it’s own mum is lying? And are you going to tell me that it was retarded to listen to my mum? (If you ARE a mum, be careful what you think/say now). Then most of the kids would be kind of retarded, right?
Then, when I kind of grew up and left my parents (and Somebody) it was a somewhat relief, until… more or less until the first time I lived in a shared flat with other people. Because HE CAME BACK! I was sure he was haunting me, and seriously, I couldn’t tell my flat mates I was scared of SOMEBODY. But they kept going on about him… “Somebody ate my fucking chocolate” (I’m telling you, he REALLY likes chocolate), “can Somebody clean the fucking toilet?” and I thought it was kind of creepy.
Problem is, that every time I am trying to be nice to Somebody, it doesn’t really work.
Good example: I buy chocolate for somebody – my boyfriend eats it.
I bet SOMEBODY reads my blog too…. F***ing stalker!
Somebody is hereby officially exposed! Anyway, that’s all I have to say about that.
PS: If you are reading this and you are NOT a mysterious big man sneaking around in the dark and eating other people’s chocolate, I am NOT referring YOU in the stalking-statement. Please stay.