the witch had it comin'

...to take this reality seriously again, the one that I'm currently living in. I know most of my sulkiness comes from the feeling that spacetime is against me, that I cannot be where I want to be at the moment. On the other hand, that was my choice. Had I really wanted, I could have packed up and left for Sweden in a week's time, but I decided to be fair to my employer, to my family, to earn some money. So here I am now, stuck in this. Working late four days a week. Not having much chance to see the man I love. Going to place I don't want to go to. Or - apparently - I do.

I'll survive.

...who works at the embassy here and totally thinks I'm a spy because I'm Russian, I speak decent English, and I live AND work very very close to him. He's intrigued and I'm displaying my best personality traits like talking which is a struggle, but then he talks about his Kenyan girlfriend (whatever that means) but still keeps chatting on Facebook. So I have no idea what to do with all that. We've known each other for two days but I feel reasonably comfortable already.

...but when they do...

It's Alan. I haven't felt so shitty for a long time.

I still have deep feeling for Severus and I don't hope to love anyone else that way. It's impossible. A chance like that is given once in a lifetime.

...what if this is my best world? What if I was lucky? What if this is the best me? What if in the previous life I persuaded the universe to leave me the fuck alone this one time?

yawned, trying to make it unnoticeable for the kids
delivered a lesson on haiku to the other teacher's group
tried hard not to strangle anyone
drew tables and schemes on the board
tore a hysterical girl off a boy who was mocking at her
yelled
banged my hand on the table (have a bruise now)
broke my watch against the table
yelled
yelled
yelled like hell
promised death, hell, corporal punishment for deeds against the humanity
yelled
yelled, promised to turn one's life into hell
drank some water
wrote reprimands in diaries
served as a waitress
yelled
told each and every child (30 in total) in grade 4A why I like them and they are my favourite pupils in grade 4A
made them write an essay "why my class is like that"
yelled, humiliated, offended
read essays and laughed hysterically

In fact, quoting the last book I've read, "The Jews are no laughing matter". Tomorrow I have to see the psychologist and tell her we're all fucked. And doomed. And hell is unleashed. It's been going on for four years with their class teacher, and now she's ill and I'm substituting, and they are a disaster. I am not the person who would tolerate any of this bullshit.

...and it's all because of two things:

1. I've been doing too much work. I've been forced to do too much work. I've lived through January dreaming about having enough sleep and not having to go anywhere. I've been having 32 contact hours at school + class teaching (a bunch of 30 little assholes) + second work + choir rehearsals 3-6 times a week + extra private lessons. I want to cry all my exhaustion out, I can hardly go on. This is the first weekend when I ... no, it's actually not. I still have to correct two packs of tests (I've corrected 4), translate an 11-page document, make a synopsis out of a 120-page case-study and prepare for tomorrow's lessons, I have to work 8-17 tomorrow. Damn, I'm fucked.

2. For the last month and a half I've been having a lasting tonsiliitis (two antibiotics courses didn't help), all kinds of skin reactions and what not. I believe it' s my exhaustion but I can't do anything. On Tuesday I'm seeing an otolaryngologist. I hope he helps.

And since Thursday I have trouble with breathing, cough a running nose and in general a total sad-ass sight.

Two of my colleagues have been sick for a week now, so I'm working for three. I have full classes (30-34 people), I have to make sure very group revises and writes a first-term test. I was clever enough to send other groups' tests to their sick teachers, but I still have eight packs of tests to correct. And I have been working like mad for a week now. Even though I still manage to sleep for 7 hours every night, I work and work and work and work during the day. Goddamnit, I walk out of the 0 lesson (starts at 7.45!!!) at 8.25 and I get caught in the corridor by someone telling me that in the 1st lesson (8.30!!!) I have the whole class of 3rd graders. And my group is supposed to write a test because it's their last English lesson this week! Fuck!


Tomorrow night we're having the annual Christmas ball with the parents of or pupils. I'll be down, diagonal and dangling. Already told the administration that they're responsible for getting me home tomorrow, but they said I can sleep in the school.

...again. I mean, nothing makes me happy. I don't want to eat (thank the vitamins), I want love (pure orgasm does not satisfy me), nothing is good enough. I just want warm hands around me.

...and I am watching a movie at home. Fact is, this country doesn't celebrate Halloween, we've got our own ghost days. The whole November is called the month of the dead.

But the fog is absolutely magic tonight.

before he feels at home? or safe? or un-lonely? I wish I was a sea captain, a seagull captain leading them all to this mirage called hope. Not the peace I promise to you, but the dream about peace, He said. And you know what? I wish I felt His warm hand on my head.

But all of those I've ever really loved were cold as the Arctic ice caps. They all were so cold I couldn't believe their blood was still running through their veins. Whatever they said, no matter how much fire whiskey they drank - they were cold. Especially that One. I thought I was the Snow fucking Queen - but I wasn't. Took me ages to understand, will take ages to accept and I still don't know what to do with it.

And you know why I'm going to hell? Because when I die and He comes to take my hand and lead me to whatever paradise there is, I will be holding hands with the one I've loved more than the world itself. More than myself. When I die, my Beloved one will take me. And He will be standing aside and probably asking his Father - why?

Because a woman cannot live with her heart, she has to give it away. And when she does, she ceases to exist for the rest, heaven, earth or hell.

I wish I had the courage to end all this.