What do I feel? Emptiness. I had to do it, I had no other choice. You accuse me, but you never have to be in my place and do not understand the reason for my actions. I'm sorry I'm not afraid of a sentence. For every crime there should be punishment, for why will we then give birth to children the world without a rule? Mom always told me to be responsible for my actions, I'm ready. It's good that she has not lived up to this day, because I would not know how to justify her. It would be better if I had to die at once. And before you I do not have to justify, explain, ask forgiveness. God is my judge. The most terrible court I have is still a poppet, it's just a rehearsal. Now, I will play the role of the condemned, and you honestly, impartially and clearly pronounce the sentence. A curtain. There is only one explanation for my deed - human suffering. Ask the philosophers why human suffering can be explained? What philosophical intentions and excursions do they have? And in no way! For human suffering can not be described in words, nor give them a logical explanation, nor prove their importance in life. Suffering was, is and will be, and nobody will stop them, except death. This is their end. Dad always told me that death is a release. So I gave her a release. So it is strange that my parents died young, as if they deliberately did not want to live to this day, they knew something. I was so hard without them, so sad, so lonely! I cursed the day they died. That was the first emptiness in my life. With all their strength, they hesitated to forget their faces, voices so that they would not dream of me, they did not scare, they were not mentioned. She could not. They were dying, scared, were mentioned. But over time, gradually, I began to forget them. It was a relief, my own release, the death of memories. Now, after a crime, with a new force it repeats itself. They want to punish me, show me that they will never forgive me. Let. I deserve, I'm ready. I do not understand why I'm telling you personal. Probably, it is already so indifferent that the concrete walls are destroyed around the "private, personal". Hold, take it, I'm naked, I'm vulnerable. You can beat at all points, with all the nerves, I will not feel anything. For what can a mother feel that has killed her own child? You say you do not know. That's why I did not know to this day. I had to do it I did not have another choice. Her illness progressed, she did not get up, did not eat, did not sleep, did not recognize me. Doctors did not want to continue treatment, because they did not see any hope. They refused to keep her in the hospital because they were afraid to spoil the reputation of infant mortality. You would have heard me crying! But that's not important. I was hoping so, so dreamed that everything would be fine. But that does not matter too. Yes, I agreed, I signed. My signature is my gun with a bullet in her temple. The next morning she was disconnected from apapata of food. That night, Mom dreamed me for the first time in ten years.
24 Apr 2018
Confession by Julia Gordijchenko
I have committed a crime.
What do I feel? Emptiness. I had to do it, I had no other choice. You accuse me, but you never have to be in my place and do not understand the reason for my actions. I'm sorry I'm not afraid of a sentence. For every crime there should be punishment, for why will we then give birth to children the world without a rule? Mom always told me to be responsible for my actions, I'm ready. It's good that she has not lived up to this day, because I would not know how to justify her. It would be better if I had to die at once. And before you I do not have to justify, explain, ask forgiveness. God is my judge. The most terrible court I have is still a poppet, it's just a rehearsal. Now, I will play the role of the condemned, and you honestly, impartially and clearly pronounce the sentence. A curtain. There is only one explanation for my deed - human suffering. Ask the philosophers why human suffering can be explained? What philosophical intentions and excursions do they have? And in no way! For human suffering can not be described in words, nor give them a logical explanation, nor prove their importance in life. Suffering was, is and will be, and nobody will stop them, except death. This is their end. Dad always told me that death is a release. So I gave her a release. So it is strange that my parents died young, as if they deliberately did not want to live to this day, they knew something. I was so hard without them, so sad, so lonely! I cursed the day they died. That was the first emptiness in my life. With all their strength, they hesitated to forget their faces, voices so that they would not dream of me, they did not scare, they were not mentioned. She could not. They were dying, scared, were mentioned. But over time, gradually, I began to forget them. It was a relief, my own release, the death of memories. Now, after a crime, with a new force it repeats itself. They want to punish me, show me that they will never forgive me. Let. I deserve, I'm ready. I do not understand why I'm telling you personal. Probably, it is already so indifferent that the concrete walls are destroyed around the "private, personal". Hold, take it, I'm naked, I'm vulnerable. You can beat at all points, with all the nerves, I will not feel anything. For what can a mother feel that has killed her own child? You say you do not know. That's why I did not know to this day. I had to do it I did not have another choice. Her illness progressed, she did not get up, did not eat, did not sleep, did not recognize me. Doctors did not want to continue treatment, because they did not see any hope. They refused to keep her in the hospital because they were afraid to spoil the reputation of infant mortality. You would have heard me crying! But that's not important. I was hoping so, so dreamed that everything would be fine. But that does not matter too. Yes, I agreed, I signed. My signature is my gun with a bullet in her temple. The next morning she was disconnected from apapata of food. That night, Mom dreamed me for the first time in ten years.
What do I feel? Emptiness. I had to do it, I had no other choice. You accuse me, but you never have to be in my place and do not understand the reason for my actions. I'm sorry I'm not afraid of a sentence. For every crime there should be punishment, for why will we then give birth to children the world without a rule? Mom always told me to be responsible for my actions, I'm ready. It's good that she has not lived up to this day, because I would not know how to justify her. It would be better if I had to die at once. And before you I do not have to justify, explain, ask forgiveness. God is my judge. The most terrible court I have is still a poppet, it's just a rehearsal. Now, I will play the role of the condemned, and you honestly, impartially and clearly pronounce the sentence. A curtain. There is only one explanation for my deed - human suffering. Ask the philosophers why human suffering can be explained? What philosophical intentions and excursions do they have? And in no way! For human suffering can not be described in words, nor give them a logical explanation, nor prove their importance in life. Suffering was, is and will be, and nobody will stop them, except death. This is their end. Dad always told me that death is a release. So I gave her a release. So it is strange that my parents died young, as if they deliberately did not want to live to this day, they knew something. I was so hard without them, so sad, so lonely! I cursed the day they died. That was the first emptiness in my life. With all their strength, they hesitated to forget their faces, voices so that they would not dream of me, they did not scare, they were not mentioned. She could not. They were dying, scared, were mentioned. But over time, gradually, I began to forget them. It was a relief, my own release, the death of memories. Now, after a crime, with a new force it repeats itself. They want to punish me, show me that they will never forgive me. Let. I deserve, I'm ready. I do not understand why I'm telling you personal. Probably, it is already so indifferent that the concrete walls are destroyed around the "private, personal". Hold, take it, I'm naked, I'm vulnerable. You can beat at all points, with all the nerves, I will not feel anything. For what can a mother feel that has killed her own child? You say you do not know. That's why I did not know to this day. I had to do it I did not have another choice. Her illness progressed, she did not get up, did not eat, did not sleep, did not recognize me. Doctors did not want to continue treatment, because they did not see any hope. They refused to keep her in the hospital because they were afraid to spoil the reputation of infant mortality. You would have heard me crying! But that's not important. I was hoping so, so dreamed that everything would be fine. But that does not matter too. Yes, I agreed, I signed. My signature is my gun with a bullet in her temple. The next morning she was disconnected from apapata of food. That night, Mom dreamed me for the first time in ten years.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment