[em-pahyuhr]: Ellie Delvaux born 10 June 1999), better known as Blanche, is a Belgian singer and songwriter. She represented Belgium in the Eurovision Song Contest 2017 in Ukraine with the song “City Lights”, finishing in fourth place. Blanche previously competed on season five of The Voice Belgique, where she was a member of Team Cats on Trees.
The House That God Has Forgotten Part 67: The walls are falling down.
August. The weather starts getting colder, the day slowly fades away minute by minute, and the rain pours from the skies more often than we would like it to.
At The House That God Has Forgotten the days turn into one. Things blend into one giant day of going to be way too late and waking up too early. The mornings where when the alarm clock goes off we silently deal with ourselves.
“When I am off, I am finally going to sleep in.”
But then we end up waking up too early on those days too.
We are an injured breed. Putting on blue uniforms we are ashamed of…walking around in sneakers (most people have traded in those boots everyone wore) and walking mindlessly like cattle on to our floors and filing up a thermos or pushing buttons (like in my case).
I sit there in IPK and have fights with summer workers about have perfume and trying to bring it into The House That God Has Forgotten.
“Everyone else has let me have it!”
“I am not everyone else.”
I have conversations with colleagues about things I reflect on. Things that make me feel like I need more medicine, but are apparently normal. The thoughts that you reflect on all evening about something you said during the day.
“Do you ever feel like you say something wrong all the time and then sit there and worry about it all night? That you cannot control what you say, and that you are going to pay for it later? Is that my illness?”
“No. It is just something most people never talk about.” They answer.
I sit there with tears in my eyes.
Because I am more normal than I thought I was.
I look at that wall. With everyone’s pictures on it and it makes me paranoid. I honestly do not give a shit where you come from (I am not Swedish), Who you have sex with (I am gay), What you believe in (I am part Jewish and have the star of David as a tattoo on my arm), I do not care if you are handicapped (I am bipolar). Yet I look at that wall and think of my mouth.
The mouth and is under the control of the empire. I joke a lot. I learn phrases like “what the fuck” in Spanish. I can do clumsy things and laugh about it and make the room explode. I can say words in Swedish wrong and laugh about.
But I worry. I worry because even if I say the slightest wrong thing to someone they will be too scared to confront me and will just accuse me of something. Even if it was not meant to cause pain or make someone feel bad. That whole shut your mouth thing because you never know if they might feel bad about it is something I am not programmed to do.
There are rumours in The House That God Has Forgotten. Sexual harassment, people that enjoy running from terrorist attacks, blowing up things and watching houses burn. Little stories that fly around.
Sometimes I just stand there and shake my head looking at those faces through the camera or out of the corner of my eye. I wonder. What is exactly is this state we live in? Do we really need to tell people that as a state-run agency we are not racists? At my wife’s job they do have to announce it to everyone. It is just one of those things that is obvious.
Instead, it stares at me making me paranoid.
Then we have that whole Gay Pride thing they tried to do. Some plastic flags and rainbow coloured plastic hanging from the ceiling that reminded me of a child 6-year-old birthday.
Then the picture on the local internet: “The bosses wish you a happy Pride!” and a photo of people looking in different directions and have strange looks on their faces. I could not help but stare at it. I was so interesting I could not keep my eyes off of it. I wish they would have one of those photos when I have my birthday next year; The bosses wish you a Happy 45th Birthday Calandra!”
That would be the best present ever.
Then came the monthly letter. A long discussion about the uniform and what the guidelines are. Have your nametag here. Wear black shoes. Blah blah blah.
I wonder when they will focus on more important things. Like how many people quit. There is only one person left on the 5th floor when I left there 2 years ago.
I get to watch one of my oldest friends at The House That God Has Forgotten leave next week.
It is now an era that has officially ended.