“You do have to buckle down and do it” they say. “It is the best thing that could have happened to us” they say. “When you have your little one in your arms, you understand, it was all worth it”. But I still resist. I don’t think about raising and everything that comes up. My cells rebel, cause as IT is born, a part of me will die. Solar bunnies on the wall like metastases are about to burn the wall. And the house may fall… I am deeply afraid. The words elude me, my blood runs cold, and my eyes get wet all the time. I don’t want to share my body with IT, I can`t get rid of the feeling that everything I want to take for myself belongs not only to me. It is not about food or air; it is about music, books, about my emotions, my friends, about HIM. The floor in the room today is particularly creaking… The world seems to be cluttered with noises and faces, everything irritates. What on Earth should I do then? To knit, to bake cakes, to go to yoga and pool, to watch stupid harrowing programs, to listen to Mozart and Bach, to read aloud, to walk, to breathe, to communicate with the same defectives, to eat, to eat, to eat again, to drink, to stare out the window, to barely button up my pants, to barely dress my lacquer shoes. Well, ladies and gentlemen, but when should I live?! “Take a break” they say. It means to be idle and helpless. Definitely! Lame fly crawls on the glass... I kill it. I lose all sense of time – it seems I will stay SO forever. I am splinted and my smaller part wants more and more. And then what? IT, this nasty stubborn thing, will pave its way to freedom in every possible way tearing me apart or even killing? I feel ashamed as if I was expelled from society, as if I were taboo or an outcast. I`m sick of these thoughts.
And yet, snow-white pills swim in the whirlpool of the sink. I wonder if there is a piece of watermelon in the fridge for both of US…
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