An overly active blog in my case means two things:
1. that I have time to kill and absolutely no intention to return home.
2. that I can moan my little gothic black heart out.
3. that I strongly advice you AGAINST reading it for these two reasons.
This said, I need to refer to the fact this is not how I imagined my life will be at 31.
This also said, I honestly hope I'll manage to somehow put my finger on that which needs be done.
Not for any other reason, but because from my present point of view I can clearly see the fair green fields of banana-land and they are alarmingly close.
Hmm hmm, the little blue boy hummed to himself. Your toes don't look like toes anymore.
They look like something trapped inside the washing machine for too long.
You betcha, I admitted. And you really don't want to know what other parts of me look like.
I tried to sleep on the earth, but the drizzle did not let me.
The skies are perpetually gray these days.
Yes, the little blue boy said. The skies are wearing their winter clothes at this time of the year.
I'd go for transvestite, I replied. Something like the northern lights over Acropolis. Just for a change.
I'll tell them, he said. But it is hard. Perhaps you can dream about it if it will make you happy. Would you like that?
I am not sad. Not when I am alone.
Living with my mother makes me sad.
You also make her sad, he observed. You shout at each other all the time. Your faces turn ugly when you do that. It's like you are both drowning, only there is no water in the room.
Yes. It's a neat trick, isn't? I feigned ignorance. Mothers learn their daughters this trick when they are very very little. They in turn learn it from their own mothers.
My mother did not teach me this trick, the little blue boy said hesitantly. Is it something only girls learn?
Yes. It comes together with wombs and expectations.
I do not understand this, the little blue boy complained, but are you sure you like it?
Do you remember when someone gave you that purple hat with the the bumblebees inside? I asked. And you were stuck with it because the bumblebees wanted it for their home and you wanted it for a hat?
Yes, he nodded.
It is the same. I am stuck with this. Someone has to give way.
I gave up the hat, the boy reminded me. I will find another hat. That one had been the home of the bumblebees for so long that it would buzz even when empty.
Well, imagine what it would be like if the hat with the bumblebees was stuck on your head and you could not get it off, I suggested. It is something like this, only my mother wants the hat to remain there and I want to get it off.
Do you want me to find another hat for your mom? the little blue boy offered. I think I can find one, only it won't be purple. If she doesn't mind this, I can find one pretty hat for her. Blue and orange, with long ribbons. A princess had it once.
My mom is not a princess, I protested. Perhaps the princess will need it.
My mom told me that all girls are princesses, the little blue boy said. And my mom does not lie. Would you like the hat of the princess for your mom? Would that make her happy? Because that princess left one day and never came back for her pretty hat. It just sits there and there is dust on it. It's no trouble. I can get it for her. Would that make you stop doing the drowning trick?
I bit my lips to stop myself from crying. The little blue boy saw it.
Oh no, you're sad again, he piped miserably. Did I say something wrong? Do you want me to look for a hat for you too? Is that it? Perhaps there is a second one in the garden. I think I...
It is okay, I whispered. I'll keep the one with the bumblebees for now. One is enough.