I’ll see you next year…
Those were his words as he ushered me out of his office. He did his job. He got me to the point of a diagnosis and quickly decided for me what my next move would be.
“Well you can’t leave it there! It has to be operated.” Said another anonymous voice on another end of the line.
“No doctor will tell you to wait and see!” Said a familiar and trusted voice.
“Yes I know that.” I answered. “That’s not the point. I want someone who will look at ME. ALL OF ME. I need someone who will take my history into account and understand I can’t be chopped up randomly a fifth time and everything will just be ok!” I added passionately.
“Ok. I understand.” She replied, her voice softening. She was my generalist after all, and saved my life once before.
“Let me see who I can recommend.” She added, giving me some extra time.
Everything will not be ok…I thought to myself quietly. It’s never been truly ok for a long time. It’s been just enough to get by, just that one step over halfway that has motivated me to go on and not look back. In truth though, I’ve looked back many times and seen all the mistakes that I’ve made and which have led me to my mousetrap. I also see the mistakes of others who were supposed to be there for me and have my back but weren’t and didn’t. This story isn’t just about me as a singular being, but about an entire context: friends, family, society and culture, each playing their part in the matrix.
Carelessness, malice, greed and narcissism, the corners of the mousetrap. The reasons for Covid, for bad capitalism and skewed socialism, for poor community links, for fragile friendships, for poverty, for distrust and for generalised depression about the future.
But this story isn’t about the whole world…it’s just about me.
“What kind of shit hotel did you book for me?” He’d shouted over the phone at me at 8pm, my private time.
“I don’t know why you bother to listen. It’s not like you’ll understand anyway!” Said another grinning voice across a fancy corporate kitchen counter.
“I’ve never met anyone with such a combination of cold logic and raw emotion!” He’d commented calmly from across a comfortable chair during a one-on-one KPI session. Another hour of meeting, another flood of tears.
Deliver, deliver, DELIVER!!!
In a recent reportage by WION on Bella Hadid, we see the flood of tears…the pressure to deliver…just another woman with a pretty face making a living.
“Women are stupid.” Stated the voice of a mentor.
“You are clueless. Do what I say!” Texted the guru.
Nowadays I see emails coming through, calls, messages, demands of all sorts…good and bad…and they all gather together to form one big stack of straw and sticks that I just want to set alight.
Delete, delete, DELETE!!!
“I’ve changed my mind about letting you in on my workshop.” She’d stated calmly. “I’d rather keep that part just for myself.”
You mean you’d rather not share your money…I thought to myself as my excitement drowned in the shallow pool of promise.
“We’re sorry…we cannot publish your work in any case. Our house burnt down.” Wrote the publisher representative in a short E-mail.
Wish I’d been the one to burn it down…I thought to myself.
“I’m sorry but you can’t come into the country.” Said the German-Romanian officer with a smile. “Your VISA is one minute too late.”
But it’s my country! I thought to myself.
Fuck you! You bastard! You and your motherfucking German jokes I can understand between my tears of rage!
“No, it’s not possible.” Said the sour voice propped on one foot in front of me.
“Why?” I asked. “I’ve given you all the documents you demanded.” I asked in tired exasperation.
“You don’t exist.” She replied curtly.
‘For my whole life, I didn’t know if I even really existed. But I do…’ The Joker (2019)
“I should have done more…” He’d said with a handshake and a kiss goodbye.
Take the money and run, I thought to myself three years thereafter, or as a friend once quoted: Take all you can and give nothing back!
“Renew your contract with the new price.” Statement. Command. Order!
“I’LL SEE YOU NEXT YEAR!”
Maybe you will…maybe you won’t…
I’ve sacrificed a lot to get halfway and one step…swimming through a sea of jellyfish (The Patriot, 2015). I don’t have anything to show for it besides the scars of the stings…and maybe two other pieces of art for whom the future is still incomplete. I stood up once in my life on a stage of recognition for a piece of writing where the main character disappears into a void yet everyone can still feel him and since then…the Romanian Refugee (human error at its best right there) has passed from land to land and hand to hand one minute too late to catch the gravy train.
“You always land on your feet.” A friendly messenger.
No, my friend…I don’t always land on my feet…I’m often on my knees, but I’m small and it’s easy to overlook.
“It was your choice to leave.” Another echo of an elder voice.
No, my dearest…the first choice was yours…I chose to leave from where you forced me to arrive.
“Let the man make mistakes!” A voice from afar.
Last time I allowed a man to make a mistake, it almost cost me my life. Let’s hope it’s just the coffee cup in the cooking pot cupboard next time.
Survival in a virtual society is all about cutting ties to real emotions. Virtual avatars each taking care of bits of information. Division and repartition of the mind to suit the packets travelling back and forth.
“How are you?” The most frequent question at the gateway.
I signed up for life-insurance. As long as I make the first payment…and don’t kill myself…everything will be OK!