Review Mirror

It’s been a hard day. Today I just wanted to step back in everything I’ve done in this miserable country. Today I just cried, I was so mad and frustrated with myself, with my life, with everything happened to me since my separation. How many times I felt, how many times I cried, how many times I saw a therapist and …how many times I saw a change? Never.

Thing seems to be static. No change at all. My hopes to find a permanent job are dissolving thanks to the economical crises, to my lack of expertise in French or English. Never is enough.

I couldn’t stand anymore all this pain in my heart and brain. I have no patience, I have no hope, and sometimes living is a complicate and a full time hard job with no sense, with no meaning at all. The first thing that comes to my head is…why should I continue? Who told to stand all this crap? Why did I live home? I know why. The problem I can’t deal with all my problems at the same time.

I’m going to a lesbian group who help people who suffered domestic violence. Every time I leave that place I have a terrible headache. I leave with more question and less answers. I can’t forget the fact that my ex has my belongings, that I have no power, that I lost myself, that I dissolved my existence thinking or trying to help someone who right now is having fun, money and pleasure when here, a forgotten immigrant is trying to fight for surviving…or trying to die before trying.

I feel I tried too hard and I have no more power, that my legs are trembling, and my heart is beating too fast, that my hands are shaking and my headaches are killing slowly but efficiently. I can’t stand to look back in anger, to look ahead with fear and insecurity. I Wake up every morning thinking if I should back to my country, like today. Today, I was ready to buy air plain ticket. Am I loser just for thinking of that? I don’t feel like a hero. I focus on the things I lost and not in what I’ve done. I’ve never felt so lost or disorientated for taking the best decisions. I don’t what to do. Currently, I don’t like the place where I live. I can’t stand the noise, the smell of disgusting food and be alone. I don’t feel able or motivate to study more English, I lost faith in everything specially myself. Somebody told me I had to push myself, I can’t, I don’t have strength to continue. I can’t stand anymore my memories, my dark ghosts following me around, follow me everywhere I go.

I miss my father and I blame myself for bothering him with my problems but I don’t have anybody to talk to. Well, I got my best friend who invited a coffee this afternoon. We talked about other Quebecquers don’t: emotions. He was right when he said I live in another country, where the context is completely different. That I’m alone etc. etc. etc. If exists a place where to escape to, I can’t find it. I can’t find the place where peace can be searched. I only found more pain and misery, more fear than comfort, more loneliness than company. Less money, lots of troubles and more problems.

This is the first time that being in the first world results exactly the same like being in the third world. When I was there I was scared to death about my future life. The worst was the incertitude, you knew that everything would went worst because politics and financial problems. Four years later I’m in the same situation. I don’t know how to choose the right decision. Do I have to wait? Wait what? More pain till the point to be unbearable?

If I could buy a gun tonight, certainly a big bullet will go straight ahead to my blow up my brain.

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