I want to know how the fuck you are feeling…

25 iulie 2006
    Yes, you got me right! I want to know how the fuck you are
feeling! I want to know how do you feel when your boyfriend leaves you, I want
to know how do you feel when you loose everything you have. I want to see you naked,
undressed of your feelings and your glamour. I want to see you in the morning
with makeup all over your face. I want to see you tired and sick, I want to see
you crawling, screaming for help when everybody ignores you. I want to see you
unable to cry, I want to see you unable to speak. I want to see you speechless;
I want to see you like you see yourself in the mirror.
 

    I want you to stop dreaming and see the world as it is. I
want you to see the people starving in Africa; I want you to see the people
shooting each other in the
Middle East. I want
you to see how the petrol price is rising every month. I want you to see people
raising the green flag, throwing themselves in the battle in the name of a god
you know nothing about. I want to see the ayatollahs screaming in front of
millions they will receive forgiveness and peace after war and death.
 

    I want you to turn up the TV set and watch the news. I want
you to see the rapes, floods, hurricanes, tsunamis. I want you to see
politicians justifying their actions and raising masses to stand for something
they don’t believe in. I want you to see the violence in cartoons, I want you
to see witches and wizards predicting pain and violence, I want you to see the
so called scientist speaking about the end of the world. I want you to see how
a special potion can save your life and make you thin the same time. I want you
to see the commercials for shampoo and dish washers; I want you to see how
special knives are cutting through shoes and how a magic razor can bring you
the most beautiful woman in the world.

    I want to see your children screaming for ice-cream and balloons.
I want you to imagine yourself cooking, washing closes, washing dishes, trying
to make yourself attractive for your husband. I want to see you undressing him when
he is to drunk to breathe. I want to see you praying to have sex at least once
a month and not two times a year. I want to see you bathing the kids, taking
them to school every day. I want to see you waking up Sunday morning and waking
everybody up when you use the vacuum cleaner.

    I want to see you paying mortgage, I want you to see paying
the electricity, the water, the heating. I want to see you working late
thinking about the kids and your no good husband. I want you to see yourself
getting old with no time for vacation. I want to see you one morning going to
somebody’s funeral, thinking everybody you know  will follow and hoping you will not be there
to watch them all.

    “Choose Life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a
family. Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars, compact
disc players and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol,
and dental insurance. Choose fixed interest mortgage repayments. Choose a
starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisurewear and matching luggage.
Choose a three-piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose
DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on
that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking
junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pissing
your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the
selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourself.

    Choose your future.

    Choose life.” John Hodge, Trainspotting
 
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                                                                                           To Monica, 25 iulie 2006


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