(no subject)
Mekha el-Gassi
The Love Confess
Confession #1
It was the most significant financial crisis in my life. It’s a sad end ones own card account and then cash crash down. Nobody wishes this one and I don’t do either and all. But what reasons caused that situation was out if my mind. I was upset. And every new trouble had been stronger the previous one.
The whole half of a year was like a hell and nobody knew the day after would bring. Killing the still stayed pieces of a pity to myself I tried to understand what had happened. What cause? The leap year. No? Maybe I’m too lazy - I told you “No”. And even I found a work for not to be unemployed and being accountable. I had told new troubles appeared. The shit I had also my girlfriend relations was. I thought an after-graduating life would be much easier than the time I was studying in university.
Opportunities and all. But I was tied like a hangman without a ground feeling. I thought every wish of mine and my passion’s one would be magically provided. But who could do? And who could know… I was at a loss. Every time I met her was very short and rapid for her being satisfied of me. Then I was hearing opinions about my incompatibility, my lack of any prospect, my being disinterested of life. Even my cruelty inside. After the visit to movie where I was such impressed by ones film realistic scene of one guy’s feet amputation.
I was at a loss. Told you I was.
Maybe would be better to tell about nowadays story but it was the same one. I was in a shit. She told me ‘goodbye’. No!!! ‘I do wanna have nothing’ and all.
Yap. My story too wimpy.
Sorry for my talking like a looser. Like a miserable man. But I’m enough upset. So it’s so wimpy.
Someone would tell to be stronger. Be real man. Not wimp. Not cry. Would better to have drunk up but that’s not the solution.
Confession #2
She told what I heard thousand and one times. That was not new for me. I was at a loss. Not at a loss of our divorce but of my lousiness. My lousiness only and all. Twenty four years of my life - what have I got? - empty pockets only… No money, no home. Even my digital facilities i.e. camera was broken. I was fond of photography despite my postgraduating in environmental sciences. No opportunities, no possibilities I’ve got. I worked at the radio factory as an ecologist. Also I tried to have an extra work in a health fond as a journalist. Everything for to be money confident and being independent.
But it was a world financial crisis.
My salary was ever late. I had no money even for clothes but for feeding myself. She told me had no interest for to be wealthy. But maybe I’m a looser and all. So that time I was a suicidal person dreaming to leave everything for ever life. But self killing is not good for the heaven. I was tired of thoughts and emotions. I’m 24 years old… What‘ve I got? What?
Somewhere maybe I would found another life, another love and all. But I loved her. Be stronger? Am I man? A male gender person only. It’s not a criterion. That’s too hard for real man to be in love sometimes. So behaving like a trash what will you’ve got at the end?
[this part of that text what I wrote sitting at the café I decided not to include by cause of my personal belief in superstitions]
Fashioned clothes, luxury cars, beautiful women were for me whenever I thought. The thing I wished at the current time to have a family, a wife, children and home. And of course mutual understanding. But those were the dreams only and all. Not to be a hot shot but the causal civilian. Maybe…
[this part of that text what I wrote sitting at the café I decided not to include by cause of my personal belief in superstitions]
Confession #3
[this part of that text what I wrote sitting at the café I decided not to include by cause of my personal belief in superstitions]
Confession #4
A new cigarette and a new nicotine dose to blood for being closer to my own death. It’s a poison. Sometimes I’m loosing a time reality for to explain my thoughts. I just wait for her calling me. When was it? So I’m too weak not to call the first but I’ve done this and have heard the same one. Equal to previous.
Looser…
Nothing more…
Idiot… that’s all.
I have many personal superstitions. Means my own. One of them is a black and white dogs watching. That’s not hard to understand what means a watching of each one. But that’s a brain game only - for being taking easy or being more careful. That’s not the prediction of any situation. Foolish. Stupid. I saw many white dogs the day before. So what?
I guess the end of this short diary being dateless…
[this part of that text what I wrote sitting at the café I decided not to include by cause of my personal belief in superstitions]
Just I was at a loss and very upset of this shit happened. To do something for her return seemed like that time I hoped my previous girlfriend to return when the road reconstruction near my dormitory had stopped. So… same one. Another circumstances only.
Just notice. How many cigarettes have I smoked this night? Remember not. Too bad. Too bad. Like Nickelback song.
So it’s… It doesn’t matter anything. I’m too tired. So reading my diary don’t think me being bad and wimpy guy. I’m just who I am and all. Just… Just I donna know what to do. I tried to talk past tense. But this is a… [belief in superstitions] …situation and all.
Confession #5
I know her to love me. But she’s very proud for… [belief in superstitions].
And tonight sitting and smoking at the café, trying to put up fell down thoughts of self disappointment I watch the cigarette smoke again. The bitter coffee taste is in my mouth. [belief in superstitions] Third day without. I heard my friend talked her about this. She said she worries me. And what’s the hell about this worrying? Only my job helps me but nothing does more.
Why do people in a café look such strangeably? Am I doing my diary like a writer? Looks that like? A piece of paper with just a Chinese pen in a hand. So what? Sheep…
Fuck ya r’all!!! Don’t ya know feeling me bad? Ah?!
[this part of that text what I wrote sitting at the café I decided not to include by cause of my personal belief in superstitions]. Yesterday a friend of mine told me that one. I don’t believe it. She (a friend of mine) is fond of socionics. I’m intuitively ethic introverted person. I think her right. But IEI-persons are not as strong as they like to be seemed for publics. Such a fool explanation. Yap. Shit and all. So my soul problems are always trouble for me. No normal charging. No fucking satisfying of own life. Only miserable disappointment.
Maybe fucking with any girl would help me tonight. Oh, no… Just now - NO. Even the greatest copulation wouldn’t help. That’s not the decision of mine. Why does she look at me like a potential sex partner? I donna want to fuck!!! D’ya know? I donna want to do this. Oh, such a mewing voice. I don’t want. Just to sleep a bit. This is the best medicine for me. Nothing more. No sex, no drugs, no beer. To sleep a bit only. The fourth cigarette is over. I’m poisoned.
Confession #6
The last page. No paper for this diary. [belief in superstitions].
What did I achieve? The last page only? The last [belief in superstitions]? I don’t believe but know I’m going mad. No thoughts to write.
I loved you… Nobody’d loved you like I did. Nobody’d given you such an excellent sex I gave. Nobody stayed with you and nobody will do but… [belief in superstitions]… and do much for you. [this part of that text what I wrote sitting at the café I decided not to include by cause of my personal belief in superstitions] despite the fucking unluckiness in my life. [belief in superstitions].
I loved you!
I loved you…
I loved you.
That’s all. That’s the story end.
P.S.: Hi! I like you! D’ya wish to be my girl?
Confession #7
The text retype person has nothing common to the man wrote the 1st version.
The Sweet November, 2008