Rainbow Child

Twentyfuckingtwo.

Discutie intre o (fosta) profesoara si fosta ei eleva, actual angajata a Postei Romane, oficiul 8x, cel de langa mine. Fosta eleva lucreaza la ghiseul de colete si este una dintre cele mai tampe si incompetente persoane din cate mi-a fost dat sa intalnesc.

- Te-ai facut frumoasa…
- Hâh…
- Esti mult mai sigura pe tine, acum.
- Hâh…
- Ti-ai pus si dinti noi, frumosi!
- Multumesc!
- Te mariti, asa-i?
- Nu… mai stau… am… am 28 de ani.
- Ba te mariti! Daca iti spun eu, asa e. Te mariti.
- Hâh…

o_0

I’m officially in the Lomo club now!

The Action Sampler is soooo fun! ^_^

Lately I’ve been hearing “so, how old are you?” far too often; and the fact that I’ll be turning… yeak… twtentyfuckingtwo in no time, is not helping me much deal with the ageing process.

So, taking into consideration that “year” is a system invented by people and like everything else it is questionable and relative, I refuse to age. As far as I’m concerned, I haven’t changed much since I was 17 and from now on, whenever someone is going to as me “so, how old are you?”, I’m going to reply, smiling this time, “I’m 17″.

Here is where I draw the line. So, after watching Sonnenallee last night and reading a bit from Saramago’s Gospel according to Jesus Christ, I had THE nightmare of all nightmares. From the film I “borrowed” the setting – a communist country – and from the book I “borrowed” the part where Jesus wants to resurrect Lazarus but Maria doesn’t let him cause it would be unfair for him to die a second time again and for them to be faced with his second death.

Now in my dream I was at this woman’s apartment – she was a neighbour of one of my aunts – and she was a very important member of the Communist Party back home, but I have no idea what exactly I was doing at her place. Like always, I left my phone in another room and made small talk with her. At one point, my dad comes in  and tells me that Mum is dead She had died some hours ago from lung cancer *another part borrowed from the movie* I could only think about the fact that she had been in hospital the whole day and that no one called me to go stay with her and now I won’t ever hear her voice, I won’t ever speak to her again.

I’m telling you, it was more than horrible. It was like… I don’t know, I really can’t describe what one feels when he gets such news, but I felt a pain that was out of this world.

And then the communist bitch said that she’d be taking our apartment and your house *it seems that in my dream, my parents finished building their house* and that me and my dad were to live on the streets. At which point I took a knife and put it at her throat and said to leave us the fuck alone, that she had no right to take our homes and if she didn’t back off I was going to kill her cause now that Mum was gone I didn’t have anyone to live for and I didn’t care what happened to me. I remember threatening her about 2-3 times and repeating that now I didn’t have anyone to live for.

I woke up in tears and sobbing and it took me quite some time to figure out where I was and what had happened. The first thing I did was to go to drug store, but they didn’t give me the pills someone recommended, cause they need a note from my doctor to be allowed to sell them, but they gave me something else and said it would help me as well.

I hope it does, otherwise I’ll refuse to go to sleep. I can’t take it anymore! I’ve had nightmares before as well, but now I have them each and every night. This is too much. It really is. It’s like I’m being punished for liking fiction too much: I enjoy watching a movie or reading a book, bam! it backfires while dreaming. Fucking shit!