Eks Jammer

Eks so geïrriteerd op die oomblik. Ek moet hierdie lesing doen. Dis maar net 20 bladsye. En ek het later vandag weer klas. Maar ek dink hierdie gevoel is nie die stupid lesing nie. Dis daai stupid graduation. Sien hierdie post dan weet jy wat ek van praat.

Daai dag van graduation was ek in so, so ‘n slegte bui. Die dag voor die tyd al. Ek wou nie gaan nie uit bitterheid. Ek wil dit nie admit nie, maar ek dink ook uit spite uit. Hoe stupid van my.

En daai dag, toe ek hoor hoe jy daar is, hoe jy wou hê ek moet daar wees, hoe hy daar is, hel dit het my depressed gemaak vir dae. Hoekom was ek so stupid? Ek gaan nie dat dom onnodige en onverdiende bitterheid ooit weer simpel, mooi logika oorweldig nie.

Ek dink die probleem was nie (stupid) idee dat ek julle nie gaan sien nie, of dat dit net vir ‘n minuut of twee sal wees. Hoekom gaan as ek julle nie gaan sien nie? Of hoekom gaan met die hoop dat ek julle gaan sien, as dit dalk nie so gaan wees nie? My bitterheid het daai punt gemaak: “Hoeveelkeer, J-, het jy gehoop om iets saam met hulle te doen (sonder om hulle te sê) dan stel hulle jou teleur, al was dit eintlik jou skuld? Dis beter om dit te los. Hierdie mense, jou vriende, wat nie eers weet wat vriendskap is nie.”

So om te hoor hoe julle daar is, en hoe julle my mis, en selfs sy wat gewonder het waar ek was. Dit het my laat besef dat dit nie julle is nie wat nie weet wat vriendskap is nie, maar ek. Eks die een wat uit bitterheid dit wou boikot. Eks die een wat my vriende verlaat het, seker die laaste keer wat ek julle saam sou gesien het.

Almal van julle vrae my waar ek was. En ek vertel net ‘n halwe waarheid, wat alles wat ek bo gesê het uitlos. Eks jammer.

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The Drum Beats

“But why trouble oneself with unanswerable questions? The drum beats, it is time to be back in our wards.”

The House of the Dead – Dostoyevsky

Ek kom nie Graduation to nie

So laas jaar het ek my graad klaar gemaak. Hierdie jaar doen ek my honeurs. En nou is die graduation om die draai, en ek gaan nie gaan nie.

Eks nie doodseker hoekom nie, maar ek dink ek weet. Ek is bitter. Ek is bitter met julle. Ek onthou in tweede jaar waar jy neergesien het op my amper naiewe idee om klas toe te kom om julle, my vriende te sien. Jyt nie saamgestem met wat ek gesoek het nie: vriendskap. En ek meen regte regte vriendskap. Nie stupid “klasmatjies” tipe kak nie.

En jy. Nie jy nie, jy. Hoeveelkeer sou ons iets reel en dat gebeur dit nie. Dit het my letterlik mal gemaak. Ek het geen rede gehad om daar naby kampus te bly nie. My een klas was Maandag oggend, die ander een Donderdag. Om Tussen deur daai tyd net in die flat te sit, terwyl ek by my huis, my diere, my familie en regte vriende kan wees… het my mal gemaak. Ek sou steeds vir myself se “Okay, kom ek gaan bly maar die week naby kampus, want ons gaan dit en dat doen”. Maar dan doen ons nie. Of soms het ek ‘n valse sin van lojaliteit gehad: ‘n onderliggende understanding sin. Ek weet jy sal wil hê ek en jy moet daai fliek kyk. So dan as iemand anders my nooi om dit te kyk sal ek sê “Nee, ek gaan dit die week saam met iemand anders kyk” – saam met jou… net om daai week te hoor dat jy dit al gekyk het.

Later was ek gatvol. Ek het gesê te hel met dit en my rug op daai plek gedraai, en besluit om huis te kom en net in te ry.

So eks bitter. Ek wil nie graduation toe kom nie, want die een rede hoekom wil kom – om julle te sien – weet ek gaan net nie gebeur nie. Of tenminste ons gaan mekaar sien vir een oomblik, dan gaan jy saam jou ander vriendinne sit. En ook jy. Dit kan gebeur dat jy gaan gaan, en dat jy dalk gaan verwag dat ek daar gaan wees, en dat jy dalk verwag dat ons twee saam deur die ding kan gaan. Maar de hel met dit. Een van die dinge wat ek hierdie drie jaar geleer het is ek moenie planne maak op wat iemand dalk, miskien gaan doen nie.

Nee. Ek sal Donderdag eerder na my vriend hierso toe gaan, ‘n lekker koppie koffie saam hom drink, en sit en kyk hoe hy Runescape speel.

Dankie, maar nee dankie.

Julle bly my vriende, en glo my ek wil wou regtig close met julle wees. Totsiens.

 

Dear Princess Marya

Dear Princess Marya,

Last night, when you thought no one noticed, I noticed. I saw the storm in your heart and your fear of your father. I saw how no one noticed you, aside from that idiot of course. It pained me to see your distress among everyone’s joy, your distress in whether to congratulate him or not. Something very dire must have happened to you!

The night passed so fast for most of the others, but for me and you it dragged on for all eternity. I feel your pain, I share it. I couldn’t wait for the night to end and to have just a word with you, to see if I could possibly help. Then it broke my heart to see you break down in tears, to see your heart, even in the midst of the greatest sadness you’ve ever known, still being pure and forgiving of that dreadful monster.

Last night I dreamed about you. I dreamed that your father asked us to carry some useless things, and he purposely left the heaviest items for you. As you were at that moment somewhere else, I did my best to carry yours as well. And then afterwards I simply embraced you and by doing so – just for one moment – shared your burden.

My dear Marya, just know that someone knows. Just know that someone cares.

Yours sincerely and forever,

Jacques

I Kissed You

Dreams dreams dreams. That portal into the subconscious, that portal into your ultimate desire. That portal that will, once you attain it, collapse… leaving you unable to get it back. Leaving you with just the memory of what you almost had.

What I love about dreams is how one single moment can feel like it lasts an eternity. One thing happens, and nothing else matters anymore. But even eternity will end.

I saw you again. I can’t remember why you were there. I don’t care. I forgot your face! Why do never remember your face? Does it have some meaning? Rarely when I see you do I look at your face. I’m always from behind or beside you. And when I do see you, I can’t remember anything. I remember that one dream where I saw you so clearly, and in the midst of my dream I repeated to myself how you look so that I won’t forget, but I still did.

What made this time so unique compared to the other times was you and I staring out from a high balcony on what I thought was some alien world, but in the distance there was the ocean and a couple of wooden ships. I don’t understand why everything appeared in a kind of black and white. And then… it’s so odd just to write it down, but I must because this I don’t want to forget… you slowly turned your face and I kissed you. I kissed your beautiful moist lips. Or rather, not quite. It was more like a half-kiss. As I said, you were turning around so I only managed to kiss half of your lips before the door opened and you vanished.

Until next time, my love.

Hello Again

I “unfriended” you a few years back. I did it partly because of anger, but mostly because I wanted to move on with my life. And yet, since that one night last year around this time, I’ve sometimes thought about you, even missed you.

A few days ago you were in my head again, thinking about some dreams of you I’ve had. And then out of the blue later that day you message me on Facebook. I surprised myself: I haven’t answered a message so fast in my life. You said you wanted to return some books I lent you many years ago. So on Monday I’m going to see you.

A few days ago I watched an episode of House M. D. It is an excellent series. In one episode the characters are confronted by the suicide of one of their co-workers. It was painful to see each character wrestle with this in their own way. The one simply cried, the other isolated himself, and the last one tried to avoid it by focusing on his work… just to cry later. But the main character, House, was shaken the most. He is such a rational person and because of that he tried to find a reason for the suicide. It could have been murder. Or if a suicide there must have been something he missed, a reason, an explanation.
But no reason was given. And it literally drove him mad.

In first year I tried to analyze everything you did and said. Every action, every word, I looked for a reason behind it all, and I never could find any. It’s not that you were irrational, but merely that I just couldn’t understand you. It helped to drive me towards a mental breakdown.

So now I am, yet again, picturing all the possible outcomes of Monday. Perhaps we’re gonna fall in love. Perhaps we’re gonna be friends. Perhaps it will just be a cordial event for one minute and I’ll never see you again – perhaps when I see you I will again understand why I avoided you.

Why now? Why not last week? Or last year? I want to understand, but I’m not even going to try.

Why That Book Made Me Mad

A year ago I read a book which infuriated me. In fact, it still makes me mad when I think about it. I even wrote a post on it. I think know now why it made me so darn mad.

I am the Idiot. The Idiot, also called the prince, is pure in heart, but extremely ignorant of how to behave in society. With this I mean he doesn’t know how to act around important people, among the strict rules of the nobility or the aristocracy. I share this to some extent. I don’t always know what I should do, what I should say, where I should stand. But I’ve tried to learn how to behave normally to the point where can I act good enough to fool people, at least in that respect.

In the book the Idiot had two women he loved. The one was a spiteful, broken, lose, girl, and the other a decent, intelligent, stable girl. At the end he chose the broken one. After he did this, and after all of the fallout, a friend of the prince came to see him. He told the prince that he wasn’t really in love with that woman. No. Instead because of his ideals of beauty and compassion, and general Christlikeness, he chose that girl before he even met her. He heard about her on a train. It was these ideals which he truly loved and worshiped, even to the detriment of the good girl. And at the end these ideals failed him.

I wonder if I was so mad because I unconsciously associated that broken girl with The Girl. I mean The Girl isn’t lose evil, but she was fragile. I also worked myself into a breakdown for her sake. And all for nothing.

If I fell in love with someone wonderful today, and she asked me if I still felt anything for The Girl, I would say no in one sense and yes in another. The feelings I have for her, her whom I haven’t seen in a year, is not love (I hope), but rather a compassion for the broken. Either Dostoyevsky or C. S. Lewis talked about how this isn’t love, but merely pity. I don’t know. Perhaps the feelings are just a memory left over from my own brokenness during that time.

 

 

The Ant

The great G. K. Chesterton told a story of two boys. They came across a genii who promised each of them a wish. The first boy asked to be made a giant, so that he can walk all the way to the Victoria Falls. So he was made a giant, and when he walked there he was unimpressed by how small the waterfall was.

The second boy asked to made as small as an ant, and he was. And for him everything became big and glorious. Humility is the mother of giants.

Yesterday I was thinking of new people I met as I walked in the dark campus to my car. At one point I realised something: that I am alone and this vast place was empty. All there were, were trees and lights – and myself. In that moment I had an odd connection with God. I couldn’t express it in words, and He understood that. And as I walked a bit further in God I saw these trees around me, and I felt like that boy wanting to become as small as ant, and I appreciated the enormity of everything around me. The smaller I realised I were, the more I found all of it so beautiful.

Honeurs Notas – Klas 3

Wat volg is maar net ‘n paar gedagtes wat ek neerskryf het voor ek ‘n klas het: my worries en dinge wat ek moes doen.

Klas: International Relations Theory

Hierdie was hel! Hoe stupid kan ek wees dat ek te dom was om net op ClickUP te kyk? Kort voor ek moes ry ontdek ek dat die klas ‘n half uur vroeër is as wat die rooster sê, en ek het ‘n 21 bladsy lesing! En blykmaar MOET elke student altyd bydrae. En daars group stuff heeltyd. Damn dit!

Ek sit nou in die klas. Dit gaan nou begin. Lyk my min mense het darem geweet van ClickUP, en die lesing.

Honeurs Notas – Klas 2

Wat volg is maar net ‘n paar gedagtes wat ek neerskryf het voor ek ‘n klas het: my worries en dinge wat ek moes doen.

Klas: Foreign Policy

Die donderweer het al begin slaan toe ek moes ry. Arme Wollie was nog nooit so bang nie – bang dat ek hom gaan los nie. Hyt voor die kar ingeloop en selfs agter dit aangeho toe ek uittrek. En vir wat? Strike 3! Of is dit 4? Hulle het die tye verander. Dis nou ‘n half uur later. So ek het my musiek geniet soos ek 20 vloere met die trappe afgeloop het en nou sit ek hier naby die voorportaal.