I can still hear the snow dripping down from the roof of the Old City, the glittering sparkling factory with Russian signs in Bat Yam, but I lost track of time. Three years ago? Two years ago? One year ago? Three, two, one… I’m now standing at the tail of 20s, symbolic yet cliche.
Instead of being overwhelmed by the City of Layers, Crusaders on top of Holy Romans, I feel empowered and exaggerated by the conflict, the clash of civilisation that every historian addresses. But who can tell me where does the meaning lies? Better let go.
The power of growing up, it must be hard, as I was trained to be a cocoon, who knows when is my turn to be a butterfly, or it’s just a dream the butterfly dreamt to be me. Laugh! Let’s laugh! Give a good laugh to my life! Being told as the smallest person with no achievements in life, oh my lord, you are almost 30! So what if I die? Will people start to check how much I owned in the bank and how many words have I written?
Sometimes it just all turns into a funny scene with a shot of Tequila Sunrise.
A defeated heroine. Penthesilea.
Shrink says it’s ok to break down. Fantastic! So we are allowed to be broken, to be a failure! What a tolerance! Where are my feelings? Did it blow up in the sky along with all the taxes I paid to defence an irrelevant place? Did it break into pieces and stuck back into my feet as shards of glasses? Internal bleeding.
Once again, I was assured as a loser. And this time, I believed in it, sincerely. What a fascinating magic! Been told many many times, I thought I was an undefeated heroine, but guess what? It hides at the bottom of my heart, the scar, the wounds and the broken roads. Nice metaphor, shrink!
I saw a kind of urge somewhere, dressing in an unspeakable color, approaching. As I grow up, the fear fades away. It’s a good thing. Now I only have doubts. They are always in my pocket. Or maybe, call them rebellion.