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دلم میخواد که تو مریض بودی ، یه نموره تب داشتی و رو تخت تو اتاق تاریک دراز کشیده بودی و چشمات رو بسته بودی و من کنار تخت نشسته بودم رو زانوهام . دستت رو میگفتم تو دستم و به تو نگاه میکردم. دو تایی به این آهنگه گوش میدادیم. تو با چشمای بسته و من با چشمای باز. که هی میگفت "لیستن تو می .. یو میک می هپی .. نایس دریم ... " |
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 Last Night I took my bike to the airport surroundings, I got caught by the lights, they were trembling in blue. And my skin was cool and my heart sang, and when I said to myself that I will never go down. When I got lost the last time, I wasn't feeling at all. I wasn't feeling at all. I wasn't doing no good. I had a hole in my heart. I had no blood to my head. Yes I was going so low that I was gonna give up. And you, you were all that I wanted you were all that I wanted I took the fastest way down when I surrendered this time, I wasn't feeling no good I took the easy way out. The last pain got away when I gave up myself, I bought a ticket to hell when I met up with you. I wasn't doing no good. I had no work to be done, and the money I earned wouldn't end up too soon. So I had the time to do wrong, I had the time to go on. I've got a hole in my head and a hole in my heart. And you, you were all that I wanted. You were all that I wanted. |
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"i like being alone. at least i convinced myself that i'm better off that way. and then i met someone. at a psychiatric hospital among all places. she changed me. and then she left. we're better off alone. we suffer alone, we die alone. doesn't matter if you're model husband or father of the year. tomorrow will be the same for you. and yesterday wouldn't have been any different." --house
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manifest #29 - this is fiction when I was a kid in middle school, one night my primary-care teacher and the principle of our school came to our home to see me, my dad, and my mom. that was the first (and last) intervention by my parents (and teachers) in my life. reading this and looking back it sounds sureal if not comic. but it's true; they wanted me to stop living in imaginations so much and when I'm at school understand the reailities around me. they told me they understand me. they told me they knew more, that they knew better. that it was not safe, nor healthy and most important of all not accepted, not good, not okay. that night my dad told me you are no different from anybody else; he asked me to be normal. I don't want to take this note to remind myself of how sarcastic it is to repeat that quote and how my relation with my dad changed over the years but I know I trusted him. I respected them. and I was scared of them. you know when they teach you something for the first time you accept it specially coming from your parents and your teachers. you challenge new narratives you hear later as you grow up because you always trust your first narrative more, subconsciously. I was a proud and stubborn yet extremely insecure kid. I was afraid of home. and I was alone. but I accepted that intervention. I agreed to give up dreaming little by little and take reality more seriously or be punished for that, implicitly. years go by and I'm normal. I beilieved in that. interestingly, I believed in God, and it crushed me and my world, when I gave up on that. not only I lost all the confidence I could posess, all the certainty I grew up with, but also my imaginary world -- the acceptable one. looking back, now I know, that was my slippery slope. suddenly I feel, everyday, that I don't fit. I have no place, no faith, and no home. slowly and gradually I recreated my alternate universes around myself. that, initially, was my subconscious defense mechanisms in action. later it became my hobby. and later ... my life. the difference was, then, I was coming from a real world I'd already engaged. i taught myself to separate my time dreaming from my time interacting with people. i managed my time, and my passion (which I was always ashamed of). it was not like I could take time off five times a day and say my prayers (!!) but it was like taking minutes and hours off here and there. above all, I could read .. books, fictions, and magazines. I don't know when was that I got clever, but to survive my new addiction, or obsession, or chronic pain, or thirst, whatever I name it, I chose to sacrifice my reality again. i picked pieces of everything and put them in my alternate universe and treated people through my alters. I'm no different kid -- I believe I'm normal; my dad could be proud of me [sarcastic laugter!]. I just opt to choose an alternate religion. I was never fixed. I was never broken. now i know why I keep to live in denial -- and to my parents, and my teachers I have to say, this is safer. this is better. this is, for me, okay! if you don't believe me look what happened to my siblings. you don't have to fix a genetic disease, you just need to manage it. I am not giving up on my delusions, and my alternate narratives for you, just because they're not real. I live in my imagination and i need you to accept me for that. don't save me, observe me. please. |
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بچه میخوام. بچه میخوام. بچه ی خودم
بچه ی خودمون. باهاش بازی کنیم. ازش فیلم بگیریم. بعد من تربیتش کنم تو نگاه کنی تو تربیتش کنی من نگاه کنم. هممم ... ما که تربیت کردن بلد نیستیم. بچه رو ول میکنیم خودش تربیت شه ما نگاش کنیم. که بچه مون نه سالش باشه ازش بپرسم منو بیشتر دوس داری یا مامانتو. که خجالت بکشه بگه هر دوتون. که بگم نه کدومو یه کم بیشتر دوست داری که بیشتر خجالت بکشه چون نمیتونه دروغ بگه بگه مامانو که لبخند بزنم و نگاش کنم که دستمو بکشم توی موهاش توی چشاش نگاش کنم بگم خب حق داری. مامانت خیلی دوست داشتنی تره. منم مامانتو بیشتر از خودم دوست دارم. که بچه مون بخنده که تو از پشت بیای و منو بغل کنی بچمون دورغ بلد نیست منم بلد نیستم. |
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دلم میخواد جلوی دخترم زانو بزنم, شونه هاش رو بگیرم و موهاش رو صاف کنم و درحالیکه دفترش رو گرفته دستش و با کنجکاوی و ابروهایی که بالا انداخته به من نگاه میکنه به زبون آدم بزرگا براش از مامانش تعریف کنم ... فقط اگه مادرش تو باشی ... حتی اگه با لبخند آرومت پشت در گوش به حرفای پدر و دختر وا نستاده باشی.
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