Despair
Despair is a sin. A grave sin. I should not be cast down. And I am not. And I am trying. I am not a teen-aged boy, who cries at night into his pillow. I am already an adult. Memories of that age could seem even funny. If there was no day like today. To be more precise, today’s evening. What is more, just one hour. Turning everything upside down. From serenity to…
No, I should not be cast down. And I am not, I do. I simply feel a bit sad. Neither monotonous drizzling rain outside my window, nor chandelier over my head, nor darkness of new moon through my balcony will make my mood better. Music could not help, too — such an eternal panacea for my small troubles. Now I am keeping silence at least I should not disturb my neighbours. You see it is already deep night.
I am turning off the light. Light and dark stripes, interlacing on my ceiling, bring me back to my early childhood. Having been a child when I was made go to bed I refused to do this and, really just like now, was laying and looking at the stripes like those. In addition, there was the same strange wrenching feeling, which was born inside me.
…Then the boy was coming out of his room, having a blank look at that habitual darkness, to a bright-lighted kitchen and asked in the affirmative: ‘What about “as every evening”?’ He meant to drink a cup of tea and kill a little more time.
It was long ago, indeed! How small were my wishes! It was so easy to feel happy…
…You see, how hard it is now… thus, with my clenched teeth, my thought ends.
… Be sure — I will not fall asleep — until morning… However, tomorrow is another black-letter day. From some ‘black hole’ a self-compassion, which I thought I forgot, is breaking free.
… No, I am not casting down… not… casting… Because… No… For why… Why… It would be better… Why… Why… Why…
July 19, 2004.
Translated on September 12–13, 2005.
Edited by Inna Baglay inna_baglay@ukr.net