- Esther's Memory -


Some, thought me raving mad. The question in my view angle arose differently.
Was I crazy, or was they crazy? My opinion was contested relentlessly, they had apparently compelling evidence of ambient psychosis. But what about my thoughts ? If I was crazy at this point, why my thoughts were still such that they were. There was no changement.

Is that obsessive love is seen as unreal? As madness, pure and simple ? Was it inconceivable for them ? On second thought, my madness might be the cause of their unease about this, or was it that they thought being possessed by romance was a permanent sign of mental derangement.
I knew no one like me, reached my same disease. I was unique, but, at the same time, alone and misunderstood in everyone's eyes. Each of the nurses, each of the physicians. Every person dealing with my mental state, and judging me at the same time, by my physical condition. I am suffering from a rare disease, in scientific language and in the the hospital, it is called hypopituitarism.

Have you any idea what you can feel when you reach adulthood, but your whole body do claim only, childhood and youth. Some people might find this a wonderful remedy, against the passage of time, against old age, which moves gradually.

Am I considered crazy because I think differently from those people ? For me this disease is nothing but a part of my life, forever hidden under the guise of a girl, and if one thing I would leave away, it would be that one.

And even if I wear this appearance that everybody wants, when approach fifties, I am not satisfied with my life as I should. Day and night locked in a straitjacket, no friends and no one to confide myself. I have time to think, imagine you well. A 9 year old girl like me, locked up and restrained by straps without stopping, with no possibility of freedom.

Normal people would they not have pity ? For this little girl whose main quest is love, happiness. This little girl whose eyes shining and crystalline and inspires a quiet confidence and limitless. Whose black hair ebony are always impeccably coiffed, and whose face dotted with freckles smiled without resistance against power a few simple demonstrations of feelings. And which, abandoned by her jacket and wearing evening dress, the body may look thin and attractive.

I'm like that, a woman who neglects neither her physical nor her feelings. But my whole body is abnormal. I'm abnormal. Despite the secrets I hide always, the truth is always revealed to me. Nobody, ever and forever. Sentenced to talk alone, talk with these people who will never be there. I'm crazy, so it is. Such is my nature.

My name is Leena Klammer. And my current residence is Saarne Institute, Estonia, a psychiatric hospital. I'm sick of all the ways you want but for me, I'm just a victim of a rare disease. I am thirty two years old now, but I have to look like nine until the end of my life. And to summarize my situation, I'm alone ... and orphan.