Dinkaltranen

Hamlet is a very important play to me and the 1996 movie even more so. Not just because I think it is a truly dedicated and beautiful (if flawed) adaptation, but because it was the movie to which I experienced many of my firsts.

“I’ll be Ophelia. You be Hamlet.”

The other day, my psychologist said something to me along the lines of: “You are raging with desire for revenge against a world which no longer exists.”

This compounded into my realisation that what stundholz describes is precisely what I am doing, or rather not doing. I’m amazed that there are supposedly 400 people a month who stop here just to read the same thing, post after post, in various, agonising, ways.

I have spent most of my life alone, and the rest surrounded by people who think they’re fooling me as they smile, smile even as villains. But the more I think about it the less I am like Hamlet, despite there being many parallels: my Ophelia even drowned.

I am tired of having to constantly watch for the motivations of others, wonder if what I'm experiencing is genuine, questioning whether I am being set up to take a fall, waiting to see when the daggers will come out, wondering when I am going to be reminded again that it was wrong to trust that anyone engaging with me is doing so without ulterior motive.

So hear this now, over and over into the mouth of eternity.

I have been betrayed. I have been betrayed. I have been betrayed.