Engelsk på A !

Hejsa allesammen, jeg har her skrevet et kortere essay ud fra en novelle, jeg har læst. Essayet er skrevet i dagbogsform (derfor er jeg i tvivl, om jeg må bruge sammentrækkelser).
Jeg har tit mange sproglige fejl i form af akavede vendinger og stavefejl, derfor ville det gøre mig meget glad, hvis en venlig sjæl (eller flere) ville kigge min tekst igennem.
Det er måske en lidt drøj tekst, når den er så lang, men sproget er meget enkelt og den burde være lige til. Ellers.. Så er lidt hjælp bedre end ingen ! ;D
Jeg aflevere denne fredag, så alle besvarelser inden da vil være mig til behjælpelighed.
OBS: Jeg har engelsk på højere niveau.

Teksten:

Date: 22nd of febuary 1976

A diary, isn’t it a bit foolish and childish? Well, in fact if you don’t have anyone to talk to, to share you deepest thoughts and feelings with I think, it’ll make you mad. Or it depends on the person, on you strength and psyche. But deep down we all have this need for someone to talk to, someone to listen and give some advice. Of cause a diary can’t give you advice or recommend you to do something, but it’ll listen and let you tell. It’ll make you loosen up for you thoughts and feelings. It could be described as a way as self-helping. I don’t know.. I still feel a bit ridiculous writing my deepest secrets in a stupid little brown book, but it have become a ritual to me, a thing I do every day and about everything. My diary has become my secret trustful friend ever since the day that my dad died.

As a grownup I know that my dads death was the reason for my absent of the reality, my unsocial behaviour and my fear of bonding. The last thing has been a serious problem to me, which my need of a diary can reflect. I have never could tell anyone, what bothered me or shared feelings with another. I have always felt this fear of getting to like a person too much. Bonding too much to another and the loos him or her. Is it better just to have no one then? I have chosen not to have anyone. Not because that I don’t believe that is it better just to have no one then, but because my dad was my Everything. When he was gone, I just knew that no one could replace the whole I my heart that he had left me and I didn’t want anyone to try. I had never and will never want anyone to try.

The only person I ever had near me was my mother. I know that, you should trust you parents and fell comfortable around them. Some may have problems with their parents, especially young teenagers, but as a standard you should be able to be your self in their company. When I say standard and mean that there are some exceptions. My own mom for example. She became mad from the day, my dad died. She became paranoid. She overprotected me and always thought that I was this little child needing her day and night. And that was not the only thing; She used to sneak in my stuff, like a detective trying to find proves of a killing. I actually think that she believed, I killed somebody once. It was the night, I came home after a excursion with some classmates. We had been fighting a little for fun and I was punched in the face and had a bloody nose. She had all those delusions, paranoia and persecution mania.

Perhaps my act with running away a late night and never coming back, moving out, was a hastily thing to do. I don’t know.. She wasn’t any good to me and made me more sick than healthy. I don’t know if it was the right thing to do, or if I should have been acting differently, but that’s the way it went. I blame my self every day for leaving her all to her sick her. I know that she can’t manage to be around other people. Maybe I should had had her hospitalized, but she would never let had let me. I believe that I did the right thing for my own sake and health, but I still feel responsible for her. Ever since I moved away, I have had an eye on her. I would never forgive my self, if anything happened to her and again, I would blame myself. She moved away, changed her name and had an unlisted number, but I have the right connections and it is really not that difficult to trace a person.

I had tried to call her, even been trying to visit her, but every time she locks herself in, lies down the phone and not answering. I believe this is caused by her paranoia and she thinks that I am going to kill her or something. I send her a letter last week and surprisingly I got a response. I am just a bit shocked to read her telling about me. I have always known that she thought the worse about everyone –me too, but she writes that I was untruthful and lied all the time. I mean, if she really believed that I was like that, why was she then so overprotecting? Did she love me at all? Do I love her? Well, to be honest I don’t know how it feels to love.

Love is a strange thing isn’t it? I have read allot of love poems, listened to allot of love songs and I still don’t understand it. I have an IQ of 117, which is high for a normal person and I’m not even normal, still this phenomenon, call love, is a mysterious thing to me. The “love” I should feel to my mother, is of course not the same as in the poems and songs but still something likely. I would rather describe my feelings for her as: responsibility, protecting and defending. She is not my guardian anymore and in principle she never had been responsible enough to take care of me, so I must take care of her. In one way I know that it may be the best thing for her to get some professional help, but I thing that she would be less paranoid, if she just is let to herself. It’s a hard thing to explain. You could compare it to a sleepwalker. If you wake up a person walking in sleep, he or she may harm themselves. Instead you should just let then walk out on the roof or what ever, cause then they would manage and be hurt. Me mom should just live her own life in her weird fantasy world. If she wants to believe that I’m the governor, I don’t care. As long as she has something to believe, she will survive. If someone tell her something ells, she would blame them lying. Actually she is the only one lying. Or maybe not.