Where are my borders?
Do I have any at all?
My borders are kind of Toodle-Loo.

‘HELLO!’, the fucker says.
Demanding attention.
Poking my ribs.
Seriously.

Apparently I’m not responding quick enough.
Don’t even remember what it was about.
I am trying to ignore him.

He is saying something silly.
Happens all the time.
I have turned my back on him.

What is this male spirit doing in my living room?
Instigating me to do naughty things, of course.
What else.

‘Are you alone?’
‘No.’
‘Where’s Rombout?’
‘Still in bed.’
‘Okay. Haha.’
‘Yeh. ‘Haha’.’

Really.
Things will only get worse from here on.
I promise.

I am wondering how to get rid of it.
Blowing tobacco smoke in its direction doesn’t seem to have any effect on the pestering entity.
It doesn’t seem to give one flying fuck, and I am too lazy to get the white sage from the cabinet.

He is so full on.
Jesus Motherfucking Christ.

My hand is still lingering somewhere around my hip while I’m lying on the couch in broad daylight.
My eyes are turned at the sky and I am desperately seeking for help:
‘Dear God’, I pray.
‘Please, tell me. What have I got myself into?’.

He is complaining.
Saying my Batak spirit is being a real drill inspector with him.
Very good. Smurf of Death like a lot.
Bossing him around. Making him do stuff.
Whooping his arse, big time!
Whoa yeh.

I know. She is like that.
And I start giggling.

‘Yeh GO ON then.
SMiLE for me’.

My right leg pulls itself up in a hysterical reflex and my arm twitches in some kind of pusillanimous attempt to defend itself.

Da FuQ?
The guy’s response is so fast and fierce, he’s giving me the heebie jeebies, you know?
Together he and I are ADHD squared.

Good God.
Madre Mia.
We’re on one here, ladies and gentlemen!

I know exactly who I’m dealing with.
Been here before.
Been here forever.

Right now I feel the need to play Massive Attack’s album ‘Mezzanine’; one of the best albums ever made, if you want my opinion.
So hot. So dark. So sexy.
But I will not; I’m afraid it will be too intense for me.

I need to set some borders.
And setting borders now involves avoiding intense emotions, to prevent panick attacks and other waves of psychological vertigo to occur, because these are the cause of my destructive thoughts.

I clearly remember one of the warnings I received during shamanic initiation:
‘You gonna be needing some real borders with this man, girlfriend!’.
I recall it to have sounded somewhat loud and melodramatic.
And I now understand what it means.

He’s the kind of guy who knows how to make me laugh, pick me up and lift me up so high, I lose control.

I have a feeling I’m gonna die a thousand deaths with this man.
And this adventure we’re on?
I guarantee it’s gonna be brutal.
Unlike the world has ever seen.

From my memoirs ‘TOBACCO – Curse & Blessing of a Shamaness
By KiKi TOAO