Requiem for a Dream

CHILLOSOPHY

- Hermit, she said quietly to the first card that fell out of the deck of the full welfare of high society

News of the day: Snow in the ocean and rescuing animals from wildfires. So, how it started? My mother was hopelessly in love with my father and was desperate to get his attention. One day she somehow accidentally managed to seduce him and she got pregnant. He had to marry her, whether he wanted it all, of course not. I was born, my father cheated on my mother all the time, she started drinking from grief, eventually, he left. Even if I honestly can’t remember his face clearly, I was 3 years old, my mother destroyed all the photos and mentions of him after that, different men started to appear in our house, who stayed overnight and disappeared in the morning, I can’t remember my mother sober. She was drinking every day. Sometimes she’d ask who I was and where my parents were. One day I remember her parents coming over, they were well-dressed or maybe I thought so. They didn’t support her obsession with my father and kicked her out of the house when they found out she was pregnant. As you can see, they weren’t very happy either. They demanded something from her, some papers. I don’t remember if they got what they needed, but they left. They didn’t ask me if I ate, how I was feeling, or anything at all. I don’t know anything else they know who they are, who they work with, what they like to do in the evenings. They didn’t need me, and I don’t need them.

- God bless the sedatives, I said, walking out of the pharmacy a winner of all internal conflicts

I always wanted to talk, to talk about injustice, happiness, my own, and others’ experiences. It was important for me to let go with words of what was raging inside of me, to free myself. Sometimes it helped me, sometimes it was the root of my new problems. In psychology, there is such a thing as personality substitution, which is when you can’t talk about what’s bothering you, you don’t want to deal with it, you don’t want to go into your pain, but you talk with great enthusiasm about the problems of others, as if helping them, but actually running away from yourself. Look there’s the real problems over there, and I’m fine, don’t look in my direction. Why learn if you make mistakes anyway? When your parents told you not to drink very hot tea and you can burn your tongue, what did you think? Okay, yes, the tea is hot, okay, everyone gets burned, I know, I understand, I’m ready for a hard future with this hot tea, I know everything and I can’t be caught off guard. And then what happened? One day you took a sip of that hot tea and burned your tongue. Wait! Well, you knew you shouldn’t have done that. You were ready. How did that happen? What’s wrong with you? Are you stupid? Oh, man. I can’t believe you burned your tongue knowing all that. Okay, now you know the consequences and how unpleasant it is. Now you’ll never, ever do it again. Now, how many times in your life have you burned your tongue?

My great imagination became my life jacket. I wanted to be an actress because it was one of the most legitimate ways to live a different life. I imagined myself on stage, I cried, I screamed, I could show my pain, but it wasn’t me. It was just a character. It’s very comfortable, you put on a mask and everyone around you accepts your rules of the game, you’re in charge, no one tries to catch you in a lie, no one tries to tear off that mask, everyone enjoys the performance. They pay money for it.

I kept diaries. It was my only therapy option, where I told what really bothered me. I reread my notes recently and marveled at the strength of this little girl. How could she do it? I know how. I wasn’t just writing there about how I survived another day. I was writing poems. They weren’t romantic poems. It was the harsh reality that I wanted to shout into the loudspeaker on the street. That’s when I realized I didn’t want to be an actress. I didn’t want to hide behind another person’s mask anymore. I’m ready to speak openly. I’m ready to speak loudly and boldly. People don’t want to hear the truth, they want entertainment, they want a distraction from the whole routine. They want lightness. Pussy. Boobs. Stupid fun. And all you have here is clinical depression, horror movies, routine in routine. No. No. And no.

As you already know, I didn’t become an actress, I didn’t become a rap icon. I ended up on a different path. It’s unique and unpredictable. I talk loud and feisty. I do what I can do.

• Balance is the new sexy, said Alice, deleting browser history

You can’t blame a person if they sincerely don’t understand that their reality and yours don’t match up. Jodi Picoult