With christmas, the 29th, Eid and new year's eve taking place firmly one after the other, I can ever so blandly say that I've lost taste. That sounds dark, I know, but I do feel as though my emotional center has melted down. I think I've spent a lot of time smashing down my feelings that I'm no longer capable of articulating what's inside. Everything seems to be muted; great joy and sadness, love and sorrow, even acute disappointments. I no longer feel entitled to them that they simply get lost inside me; finding their way to the safest, furthest place away from my heart.
Deep down I am worrying. I don't want to talk about it because I'm afraid that it'll open floodgates that will never close again. I'm afraid that if I had to come down right to it, I'd have to realise that I am not okay. Then I'd have to deal and dress it up in front of people pretending I am; which would gloriously smash myself even further down.
I realise much of 2006 has been self-deconstructing lies. I keep secrets from myself, letting much of anger tear me apart for moments of girlish conviction. I find it hard to trust, as though every word is a trap, every thought a treason. I really thought I was healing, but that mighty word has obviously been tamped down into oblivion now that I see clearly. The whole year, and I haven't even so much as let myself get healed.
This 2007, I want to know why, and if I ever really will.
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Friday, December 01, 2006
Flashback
I have a t-shirt on while it's 4° outside. The last time this was possible was some 3 years ago when I was at my parents' in Neuilly-sur-Seine. I figured I would miss that place, but it isn't quite that at all. But with everything that went on for the next years, it makes perfect sense.
I merely turned 17, an age which I were still considered a mineur, restricting me in many administrating processes. I was far from being comfortable with my French, and I felt helpless, blinded with which papers I had to have to shift status from immuned carte diplomatique holder to student annual titre de séjours. At the time, uncertainty seemed whole. I didn't know how my parents would be in their new place and how they would keep contact, or if they can at all. I questioned my decision to stay; but studies, as it is in most cases, became priority.
The search for an apartment began. We were two, and decided to rent a two piece apartment. We saw a couple of apartments before we visited the one we took. They were very small in cubic meters, inside a very antique building. Some didn't have an elevator; one was situated on the 7th floor and kitchen being the first piece to see as we enter. The floors were creaky enough to make me believe that whoever lives under would time precise my schedule. Also, there was just something about the propriétaire that gave me the shivers.
And then we found one. Situated on a calm road as a unity of buildings inside a block. We weren't facing any roads, which meant serenity. It was a new set of buildings which also means more logically situated pieces: a bit of hallway before it finally divides to 3 other pieces, the kitchen, salon, and room. And yes, it has an elevator with real doors, rather than those ancient gate-like pulls in so many apartments in Paris. I felt it was a great apartment, and just as we were already downstairs "thinking", I made this feeling very clear. Finally we went up and decided to take it. And oh, the new propriétaire is really easy going.
My parents finally left in 2004, and the first days were really tough on both my brother and me. Sure they've left us to some guardians here and there, but over the weeks that follow we learnt that they're not there to fully rely on, and that the world is turning just the same for them even when we feel ours has lost its pace.
It's funny when I look back, the things that've happened during my 4 years in Paris that I'd never have dreamed of doing before I left for it the first time. I'll miss it, and I'd like to believe some of it would miss me. Sometimes you just feel like you've contributed so much to your living that you expect life to give something in return. But in truth, even once we leave, life will continue living...Then you realise that you're actually very small.
I merely turned 17, an age which I were still considered a mineur, restricting me in many administrating processes. I was far from being comfortable with my French, and I felt helpless, blinded with which papers I had to have to shift status from immuned carte diplomatique holder to student annual titre de séjours. At the time, uncertainty seemed whole. I didn't know how my parents would be in their new place and how they would keep contact, or if they can at all. I questioned my decision to stay; but studies, as it is in most cases, became priority.
The search for an apartment began. We were two, and decided to rent a two piece apartment. We saw a couple of apartments before we visited the one we took. They were very small in cubic meters, inside a very antique building. Some didn't have an elevator; one was situated on the 7th floor and kitchen being the first piece to see as we enter. The floors were creaky enough to make me believe that whoever lives under would time precise my schedule. Also, there was just something about the propriétaire that gave me the shivers.
And then we found one. Situated on a calm road as a unity of buildings inside a block. We weren't facing any roads, which meant serenity. It was a new set of buildings which also means more logically situated pieces: a bit of hallway before it finally divides to 3 other pieces, the kitchen, salon, and room. And yes, it has an elevator with real doors, rather than those ancient gate-like pulls in so many apartments in Paris. I felt it was a great apartment, and just as we were already downstairs "thinking", I made this feeling very clear. Finally we went up and decided to take it. And oh, the new propriétaire is really easy going.
My parents finally left in 2004, and the first days were really tough on both my brother and me. Sure they've left us to some guardians here and there, but over the weeks that follow we learnt that they're not there to fully rely on, and that the world is turning just the same for them even when we feel ours has lost its pace.
It's funny when I look back, the things that've happened during my 4 years in Paris that I'd never have dreamed of doing before I left for it the first time. I'll miss it, and I'd like to believe some of it would miss me. Sometimes you just feel like you've contributed so much to your living that you expect life to give something in return. But in truth, even once we leave, life will continue living...Then you realise that you're actually very small.
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