The weeds of the past and the dangerous liaisons of the future
The weeds
of the past and the dangerous liaisons of the future
An
afternoon in late August. A German Shepard accompanies me and protects me –
against my own shadow. We walk on the cut grass of the fields nearby. I stop
infront of a haystack. I lay down. Grass… Someone should love me. I think of my
translations of songs of Balašević. I was still a kid. The translations were
clumsy, English was stiff, but I understood the verses more than I should.
Abnormal
EEG confirmed the diagnosis. Epilepsy.
Now, I
don’t translate love songs anymore, I monitor absences, periods of being
absent, amnesia, tiredness and the characteristics of the first grand mal
(generalized clonic-tonic seizure).
And then
comes love – how should I … I shouldn’t and I can’t be selfish enough, to
expose somebody to this pain, this undefined imprint of the shoes in the
future, this confused power game, when the closest are lost in the art of love,
because in their eyes I became another person and a person with different love.
Noone
understands my fear – only one person, one person only understands my new
suicidality, one person among thousands … who regularly accompanies me to the
ER, sits next to me, when I wake up from a painful absence during the nights,
and helps me back to life, only one person, who talks to doctors, cares for my
mouth ulcers, only one – my only true friend, a future doctor, source of
empathy, endless understanding, care and knowledge.
 |
| Fear - I.Minić |
Fear tears
apart my guts. Literally. Unbearable pain in my epigastrium. Consequence – a
bleeding ulcer. I cease to talk. My father and I are sitting infront of the
building of the University Clinic in Maribor. I am supposedly too sensitive …
I feel like
Dorian Gray – my face grins in powerlessness.
