You see a sentence
written in cyrillic. Some of the letters are familiar. You see the
meaning shimmering underneath the surface. You almost grasp it, but it slips away. The letters on the page mock you silently.
You know this Czech word. You’ve already learnt it in Polish. It is not the same word. It is a grave insult. Your slavic friends are shocked and embarassed for you when they hear you speak it.
There is a sentence in
Croatian. There is a sentence in Serbian. There is a sentence in
Bosnian. They are all the same sentence.
You have to write about your day in Slovak. You spend the night polishing the draft. You fail your assigment. It’s written in Czech. You don’t know Czech.
P is not what it seems. You have to remember that.
The Croatian sentence
does not mean what the Bosnian sentence means. They both mean the same in Serbian.
That word has a diminutive. The diminutive has its own diminutive. The diminutive of the diminutive also has a diminutive. Nobody knows what the final diminutive of a word is. Some say the knowledge had been lost in centuries past and matrioshkas are the echo, the tangible warning left for us to remember. No living creature should hold the means of diminishing something into nonexistence. Others say you may still find some of them in old soviet textbooks, if you dare to look in abandoned schools of Chernobyl.
Someone is speaking to you. Is that a he or a she? You aren’t sure. It’s an abstract concept. Why does it have gender.
You see a word in a
dictionary. It has seventeen letters and only one vowel. You close the dictionary very carefully not
looking at the phonetic transcription. The shape of it haunts you in
your sleep. You wake
up face damp with tears, a bitter taste on your tongue. The clock blinks 3:03AM. You do not dare look up that word again.
This word means the
same thing in the five slavic languages you’re familiar with. You use
it in the sixth one. That word does not exist in this language. It never
did. There is now a word-shaped void in the fabric of this language.
The natives look at you uneasily. There is a new quality to the silence and your palms start to sweat.
H is not H. H is not H. H is not H. H is not H.
One day you flip through your dictionary. A page is missing. What was the word? You can’t remember. There is pressure building at the back of your head. The clock blinks 3:03AM.
You write my name
is in cyrillic. There are shadows dancing on the walls. They grow
longer with each letter you write down. It is not cyrillic you’re
using. You keep writing my name is. The shadows now bleed from
the tip of your pen. It’s irrelevant. You need to remember the right
N is not N is not N is
not N is not N is not N is not N is not N is not N is not N is not N
is not… If only you could remember the letters. The letters are important. What was it, that wasn’t N?
There are nine different prefixes
you can add to a verb to change its meaning. There are fifty three different suffixes you have to add to a verb to make it
work. In the end the only thing left of the original is a vague shape
of one of its middle consonants.
You can feel the anguish radiating from the verb’s mutialted form. A desperate sob escapes through your clenched teeth.
You’re so, so sorry, you didn’t meant to. You didn’t. It doesn’t matter.
You now read a text in
Russian. You’ve never learnt Russian. Why are you reading that text? The words burn your eyes,
the meaning searing your mind.
There’s a shot of vodka in front of
you. You don’t drink alcohol. You don’t care. All existence is
meaningless, your soul’s in eternal pain. A broken matrioshka lays at your feet. There is no salvation, she says boring into your eyes. You open your mouth to answer, but there is only a burst of harsh rustle. It dies in whispering echoes a moment later. Your glass is empty again.
Reasons an FP/anyone may not have replied to you yet
I know that a lot of us with BPD- and other disorders such as anxiety, DPD, paranoia etc- can get really worried when those we care about don’t reply- or anyone! We worry they hate us, are angry, are leaving us, are hurt. So, here’s a list of possible reasons why they may not be replying that aren’t those!
They’re asleep. This is kinda subjective to the time they’re in, but this included naps! Sometimes people fall asleep suddenly, or fall asleep before your reply
They’re busy. They made need to focus on something, or not be allowed on their phone. Or, they want to save their reply to you for when they can put their full attention on you and give a proper reply
They’re unsure how to reply yet. sometimes people need time to think of how to reply, and want to give a proper one
They don’t feel like talking to anyone right now. It’s not that they don’t wanna talk to you specifically- they may just be socially drained or want to focus on themselves!
They’re not in a mental place where they can reply to you. This includes perhaps they’re dissociating, or can’t think straight to reply
Their phone is dead. Plain and simple
Their wifi dropped. Same again
They’re taking pleasure time. Video games, reading anything. Sometimes people need time to relax- it doesn’t mean that they don’t enjoy talking to you, they just wanna fully immerse themselves in their activity.
They’re interacting with someone/in a situation where it’s not appropriate to use their phone. Maybe at dinner, church, a lesson, anything
They suddenly have to deal with something urgent.
They forgot. I know this one is scary/hurts- but it doesn’t mean you’re not important to them! Maybe they saw your message whilst busy, thought they need to reply later, then forgot. Some people also have memory issues that mean they forget to reply to things.
They’re not logged into what you talk in. This goes esp for facebook/tumblr
They havn’t got your message. This can be for lots of reasons! Bad connection, app is broken, phone is slow, anything like that