The Hidden Tears of the Clown Girl

Home sweet home

While I walk, I continue to ask myself the same questions. What went wrong?

We met, felt attracted and interested in each other, and vice versa. We slept in the same bed, danced together, and even had sex. What did I do wrong?

Somehow, I ruined all my love stories when I was a human. Not once did I manage to understand the dynamics that led to the destruction of the relationship. Never.

The feeling I just experienced, I recognized it immediately. One moment we love each other and see ourselves as the best people in the world, then suddenly, because of a wrong word, everything changes, and one of us hates the other, or worse, we both hate each other.

As I think, I realize I've reached the building, on top of which is my house.

I jump to the usual spot, giving myself a push with my feet from the wall, and grab the pipe that reaches almost to the top.

While climbing, I continue to think.

Maybe... in the end, it's not just my fault.

Glam should have told me if something was wrong.

Yeah... none of us is innocent, perhaps.

Lack of communication is the best way to destroy a love story.

And we are all guilty in some way.

I give myself a final push from under the cornice using my feet, and jumping, I cling to the last grate.

I pull myself up without problems and am on the top of the building. The rudimentary house of imposing orange bricks in front of me.

"Home sweet home," I exclaim sincerely, even though I would have preferred to be somewhere else.

My house is quite peculiar. Artistic and messy at the same time.

It's like a country cottage, but it's right above the top of a city building.

Completely made of red bricks. Whoever built it had no idea how to build a house, and it shows. Yet... despite everything, perhaps by sheer luck, it turned out quite well.

Three floors of the house. Garage, courtyard, and kitchen on the first floor. Although I don't understand what you do with a garage in a house where you can never bring a car, but okay. I use it for manual work. And it's very useful.

On the second floor, I have a piano and a TV with a sofa. But in reality, I've never used any of the three.

My realm is on the third floor, where I find tranquility and freedom, even though I don't actually do anything.

My bedroom, simple. A double bed, some furniture, and some shelves with some books, along with a computer that I've rarely used.

Next to it, the bathroom, and at the end of the hallway, my large room with electric musical instruments, including guitars and an acoustic drum set. Along with some gym equipment. Although I've never actually practiced gym in this house.

I throw myself on the bed. And trying not to think about Glam, I continue to replay in my head the story of this house.

I bought it for very little, as it belonged to a well-known criminal who recently died. That's why some old enemy might have thought of attacking the house, and it happened.

I accepted because I had the skills to defend the house, thanks to my senses.

Too many idiots have died within these walls, to the point that I had to clean the house several times.