Daily writing by Bolet

Fa més de deu anys que no entro a aquest racó d'internet. Un racó que era el meu refugi mentre estudiava Batxillerat, i suposo que durant gran part de la carrera. Ni tan sols he pogut entrar al que era el meu blog principal, "llenyataire"...

Curiosament, aquests mesos he estat rellegint els meus diaris que vaig escriure a mà en aquella època. És estrany. Sento tanta distància amb aquella Júlia del passat, i alhora li tinc tanta empatia... En certa manera, és com si tot hagués canviat per no canviar res en absolut. Segueixo tenint les mateixes inquietuds, les mateixes pors i inseguretats que en aquell temps. Em preocupava mantenir les amistats, i em feia por el canvi constant de la vida. M'aferrava tant com podia a les constants de la vida.

Amb tot, les circumstàncies han canviat. Tinc una feina de nena gran, visc sola i es pot dir que me'n ensurto prou bé. Gairebé cap dels meus amics s'ha mantingut allà on era, i els que s'han mantingut, no tenen la importància a la meva vida que solien tenir. Ara sé que el canvi no té perquè ser negatiu. Que la única constant vital que tindré mai soc jo mateixa, i que per tant convé que aprengui a conviure amb mi, i a fer-me feliç.

“A boy needs his father” Vivian muttered as he took another sip of his vodka.

“He’s not a child anymore, Viv. He doesn’t look like one and he doesn’t act like one”. Vivian observed Ian’s distance in his eyes, the numbness, the apathy… It all made her sick. She felt sudden splurge of anger rush through her body.

“Christ, Ian! He’s acting out, he’s mad, he just needs attention, can’t you see? He’s only fourteen. He needs you there!”

“And where the hell do you think I am? He’s got a roof to live under and his expenses covered. He’s fine, Vivian!”

Vivian had been there before. It was blatantly obvious but her blind brother would not acknowledge it. He couldn’t see past his own addiction.

“Okay, let’s play it your way, then. Where is your son right now?”

“Christ, Viv, really? It’s noon so I don’t know, school probably?”

The timing couldn’t have been any better, and just as he finished uttering those words, the door opened and there he was. A blue-eyed boy, too muscular for his age, wearing ripped up jeans and a tank top. He looked confused. He clearly was not expecting to see Vivian there.

"I miss moments like this more than anything”, she said as she gazed into the horizon, hoping her brother would get at least a glimpse of what she was feeling inside. She hesitated for a second, wondering if she should add anything to make herself clearer, but her brother went on to say:

“You know, Janet, I think you have come to romanticise this place too much…”, she looked over to him with visible disappointment in her eyes and he quickly added “Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I don’t miss them too, but you know. It’s healthy for us to move on from it all, and go on with our lives.” Something inside her just broke. She tried hard to breath in and out and stay calm, but she could feel a lump forming in her throat and tears rushing to her navy-blue eyes.

“How can you just say that? Do you even realise what you’re saying?”

“Hey, look, Janet, calm down, I’m only saying… I know this has been hard for you, and to be fair it’s been hard for everyone, but…”

“But what, Jonathan, What? Have you even noticed this is the first time we’ve even hung out together since they passed away?” She looked at him but he couldn’t look back, he gazed into the horizon, knowing she had a point, trying to find the right words. Bugger. Words never were his thing.

“You’re right, we probably should be spending more time together, but this place… It brings back so many memories and I just… It’s hard to deal with, ok? I’m not made of stone either.” She looked at him with clear disagreement on her face. “And you know, I’m concerned about you. You don’t look so good. I was wondering if you should see your therapist again. I know you’re prone to depression and if this could be a trigger for you somehow…”

She had had enough. “Don’t even go there, Jonathan. My mental health has never been a concern for you and it won’t start being one now. For the record, I have been seeing my therapist regularly.”

“Jane, for Christ’s sakes! I am genuinely concerned for you; I mean just look at you! When was the last time you even showered? You also look like you haven’t been sleeping… God, I don’t know, maybe those pills you used to take would help.”

BoletBufó is a site where I (Bolet, mushroom in Catalan in case you’re interested) will be posting the outcomes of my daily writing project. I will be using various writing prompt websites such as http://writingexercises.co.uk/dialogue-generator.php and others. I probably will be posting in English, Catalan and Spanish. If any of you are interested I can provide you with translations.