I am 43 (44 in 2 days), now I walk in crutches because I have an open wound on my amputated leg. This wound doesn't heal since December last year. I was amputated in 1998, due to my only suicide attempt. I love writing, especially poems and I am interested in any kind of communication. I prefer snail mail, but it is costly and no one sends me a letter or a postcard since I was forced into psychiatric care in 1992, I don't understand what happened. I never could guess others' thoughts but I was perfectly normal and I communicated in a normal manner. Of course, apart from my mother, no one calls me. It gets harder and harder. My whole life, since 1984, I received only a few phone calls. But I always loved and respected people and I did nothing wrong, I spoke nothing evil, I thought nothing bad. I was only born in a very poor family, but not Gypsies or Jews or another kind of minority...maybe it would have been better.
If you are interested in my poems
(Feb., 14th, 2015)