چهارشنبه، شهریور ۲۱، ۱۳۸۶

happiness

حالم خوب نمي‌شود. نمي‌دانم چرا اينطوري پيش مي‌رود؟ خوابهاي وحشتناكي دارم، قبل از بيدار شدن مرتب خواب مي‌بينم كه مي‌خواهم بيدار بشوم ولي نمي‌توانم. چشمهايم باز نمي‌شود،‌ صدايم در نمي‌آيد، و نمي‌توانم از جا بلند بشوم. وقتي كه بيدار مي‌شوم خيلي خسته‌ام. و فكر مي‌كنم ديگر هرگز نمي‌خوابم، اما خوب اين بي‌انرژي‌بودن دارد از پا مي‌اندازد...
درد احمقانه هم كه هي مي‌رود و مي‌آيد. شايد تئاتر حالم را خوب مي‌كرد...
دلم خيلي تنگ شده است. خيلي...

از استاد هيچ وقت امضا نگرفتم، شايد به خاطر نوع رابطه‌مان. عوضش يك كتاب برايش گرفتم، مجموعه 7-8 داستان معروف ويرجييانا وولف به زبان اصلي.

اين متن آخرين نوشته‌اش به همسرش است:

I feel certain that I am going mad again. I feel we can't go through another of those terrible times. And I shan't recover this time. I begin to hear voices, and I can't concentrate. So I am doing what seems the best thing to do. You have given me the greatest possible happiness. You have been in every way all that anyone could be. I don't think two people could have been happier 'til this terrible disease came. I can't fight any longer. I know that I am spoiling your life, that without me you could work. And you will I know. You see I can't even write this properly. I can't read. What I want to say is I owe all the happiness of my life to you. You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good. I want to say that — everybody knows it. If anybody could have saved me it would have been you. Everything has gone from me but the certainty of your goodness. I can't go on spoiling your life any longer. I don't think two people could have been happier than we have been.

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