Pregnant with death Chapter 4

Thursday

20.

The void of ugliness is filled immediately. The ugliness is so much that you forget the beauty. But once the beauties disappear, you start to watch their emptiness. That’s how you become empty inside. If something is really beautiful, there is never a substitute. Even another beauty cannot make you feel what a beauty makes you feel. But ugliness exists with thousands of backups. Ugly things are similar to each other. Ugliness is easily reproduced, the easiest job in the world is to create a mess. Four days later, when I detonate my bomb, you’ll say I’m an arsehole. When you talk about me, you will never think about who I am, why I did such a thing. You won’t even want to see my life contaminated by the ugliness done to me. Maybe in one of those newspapers, you will see a bad photograph of me and spit on it. I know. But what you don’t know is that I was created immaculate. I couldn’t forget the life, the men, the people who defiled me. I wanted to purify myself from myself, from all my experiences. I believed that death would purify me. But I could never commit suicide. Not because I had any hope, but just like you, I wanted to let myself go with the flow of life. The flow of life dragged me first to a man and then to the organisation that man was a member of. Put yourself in my shoes. If all the ugliness comes and sticks to you, don’t you want to finally blow yourself up with a bomb and take revenge for the life you couldn’t live? Please be honest. At least tell yourself the truth. For example, last night when I put my head on the pillow and talked to myself, I thought about the lies I had told myself until that day. Once upon a time, I used to say to myself “You have to live despite everything!”.

I couldn’t explain why I had to live. Last night I admitted it: “You don’t have to live. You never have…” Do you have to live? Do you have to live this life? Isn’t that ridiculous? If this life is beautiful, you don’t have to live it, you live it willingly. And does this life look beautiful? With all the war, destruction, slaughter, injustice, bad luck, dishonour, can you still say “Life is beautiful”? I can’t. I can’t talk about life anymore. I can’t talk to life itself. Life, the world and everything is deaf to me.

This world is so deaf to me that in order for the world to hear me, I will detonate a bomb that will cripple it and tear off its deaf ears! I find it hard to touch myself when I think that I am about to commit such a disastrous deed. Yes, I confess, I don’t feel like touching myself. I’m just an arsehole; I want to vomit my own revenge, my own evils on the world. I will kill the children who will die when the bomb explodes, the tourists who have only come to this country for sightseeing, or as you call them, the innocents.

I will vomit everything that has been done to me, everything I have carried inside me until today, into your world. Your world. I used to hug and comfort myself, I used to have compassion for myself, but now, when I think of the evil I’m going to do, I turn away from myself. The truths I confess to myself turn me against myself. Forget about me. Are you able to embrace yourself after the truths you confess to yourself?