Recording 3

Every girl needs a male authority figure in the family. She needs to see what kind of man she should look for in the future when creating her own family. My father was not my role model for the reasons you already know. He was simply not around. So, my older brother became the authority figure in my family. I imitated everything he did. Because of him, I stopped eating butter because he didn’t like it. It’s true! Now I just can’t eat bread with butter. How does that even work? My brother was never very open, but he was always there when I needed him. He taught me how to play computer games (I still only play The Sims), and he would put on new cartoons on his big monitor. I wasn’t allowed to enter his room without permission, but he would arrange movie nights and officially invite me over. Sometimes, I would run to him at night because I was scared, and he would let me sleep next to him. Even if he teased me, as older brothers often do, I knew he loved me and would always protect me if needed. Now, he’s a soldier, protecting the whole country. I think about him every day. He didn’t replace my father, but he showed me that I could be loved not for something, but just because I exist. When I felt bad or scared, I would call him, and he would lift my spirits within seconds, even if he was thousands of kilometers away from me. But for some reason, I keep choosing men who don’t text, don’t call, aren’t interested in my life, and only love themselves. Just like my dad.

Richard and I have a lot in common. He’s interested in literature, and we often discuss the latest books we’ve read when we meet. He reads more than I do because he doesn’t get as emotionally invested in the story. I told him that sometimes I can put a book down for a week because I feel the main character’s emotions too deeply, and it hurts me. Richard said he couldn’t imagine how much people and their words must hurt me then. I kept silent, but I looked him in the eyes, and he understood everything. They say you shouldn’t take everything people say to heart, but what if my heart isn’t in my chest on the left but somewhere in my ears? I can hear it beating loudly somewhere near my eardrum. Richard asked me why I chose journalism as a profession, and I said it was a choice to step out of my comfort zone. I’ve always loved writing and dreamed of becoming a mysterious figure, writing novels on a retro typewriter on some island in a house far away from civilization and society. Because I don’t like people; I just hate people. When I submitted my resume to the magazine where I work now — it was just a joke. Lisa and I were drinking mulled wine at a Christmas market. I was scrolling through various job vacancies and came across this one. They were looking for an active person who loves to be in the center of events, enjoys interacting with strangers, and writes well. And, of course, has a degree in philology. I showed this vacancy to Lisa and laughed out loud. It was definitely not my option. Then Lisa said she was willing to bet that they would hire me after the first interview. I was desperately curious to see if it was possible. By the way, that’s one of the reasons I’m participating in this project. Richard laughed and asked if I still hated people. I said yes, but maybe a little less, because sometimes they can be interesting. Then he gave me a notebook and said to write down the things that inspire me in people. I didn’t promise that I would actually do it. Maybe it’s some kind of trick from the psychologists who chose Richard for me?