*

یه مردابه توی تن از فراموشی
یه چراغی که می ره رو به خاموشی..

*

Maybe I m becoming wise.
Talking to Shaghayegh, seeing how she is like the previous weak Sara, and how she needs someone to wake her up, and how I am playing this role for her, how I m letting her lean on me at the same time that I horribly need to lean on somebody, how I encourage her to be strong when I myself feel so down and weak, how I play the role of the strong brave person for her so that she keeps her confidence and doesn’t panic, how I am the silent ear who listens to her endless need to talk, while I have so much to talk and I can’t talk to her.. I see what he was doing to me all these years. And all these years he needed a support back from me, and I’ve been so used to him playing the role of “the strong, firm one”, and to my role, as “the one who knows less” and “the one who needs help and can’t help back” that I was totally blinded. Now I see what he meant all these years by “you never accept to do anything to me”. Now I see it. And I just feel … sorry and sorry and sorry... and sorry. How I wish a good time for him now. How I want to pray for him, and pray for myself to become strong and wise to see him as a human, not as a flawless god who always helps and never needs any help, or even when he needs help, I am too weak to be able to do anything for him. I wish I had seen these years before. He is not a god, but he is so deeply nice. I am looking forward when I can talk to him again.

Amen

*

F.R.I.E.N.D.S, a good way to escape from the real world, from reality; Drowning yourself in a world of fantasy and sinking into alcohol and KILLING the time, the life, the reality.

The doors of the hell are not locked from outside. They are locked from inside. But unfortunately it seems that I’ve lost the key. I keep putting it somewhere, locking myself in this unbearable hell of ignorance and absurdity, and simply forgetting about the keys, which are in my own hands.

Another week begins tomorrow, bringing with it another endless list of resolutions and hopes. Aren’t I mature enough to face the real person that I am? To face my real needs, my real weaknesses and my real fears?

I feel lost, and locked, but I know that I have the keys in my own pocket. Like an addicted to heavy drugs, I am getting addicted to the hell that I make for myself, and the useless stupid naïve picture that I draw out of myself.