Le strang treptat in mine, motiv dupa motiv, frustrare dupa frustrare, nerv dupa nerv, devin treptat o bomba ambulanta. Nu mai pot sa injur, nici macar la volan, nu mai pot sa plang, asa cum faceam odata, nu mai pot sa rad prosteste, pentru a varsa cumva tensiunea. In schimb, privirea mi-a devenit pe alocuri taioasa, deciziile imi vin rapid si dureros, chiar daca ma afecteaza si pe mine, si pe cei din jur.
Unii zic ca e de bine, altii zic ca e de rau, practic toata lumea din jurul meu are cate o pozitie referitor la schimbarea asta. Numai eu am ezitari.
Si ma schimb, si nu-mi dau seama, si ma inraiesc pe zi ce trece, ma maturizez, cica… Adica incep sa invat sa infig cutitul fara remuscari, sa il sterg frumos de sangele vinovatului, si apoi sa il pregatesc pentru urmatoarea lovitura.
Dumnezeule, ce mi-ati facut?
***
I am gradually gathering them into myself, reason after reason, frustration after frustration, nerve after nerve, gradually becoming a walking bomb. I can't swear anymore, not even while driving, I can't cry, as I used to, I can't laugh stupidly, to somehow release the tension. Instead, my eyes have become sometimes sharp, my decisions come quickly and painfully, even if they affect me and those around me.
Some say it's good, others say it's bad, practically everyone around me has a position on the change. Only I have hesitations.
And I'm changing, and I don't realize it, and I'm getting worse every day, I'm growing up, I guess... I mean I'm starting to learn to stick the knife in without remorse, to wipe it clean of the culprit's blood, and then to prepare it for the next blow.
My God, what have you all done to me?
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