The seventh is back, Germany too, and I still don’t know what to say.

Time froze that day, when you broke your promise to me.

In memory of Victor Nichola Abdo

Nov. 25th 1947 – Oct. 7th 2006

May you rest in peace.

Having no real job is sometimes great. I have been thinking a lot lately about so many things that should lead to radical changes in my life. At some point, I labeled by mood as a ‘strangely excited state of mind with a hint of optimism.’ And I have been planning to write about many of the thoughts and realizations that I have recently come across. Today I do feel, however, that I should digress a little in order to let some poison out of my system before it eats me alive.

You see, as old and abused as this subject has come to be, I feel like I should once again contemplate my relationship with the people around me. Just like with their needs and plans, people classify other people and give them different priorities according to what they feel is right. I suppose my mistake has been my belief that having a close circle of friends makes one invincible in a sense, even though I never really was a ‘people person’ nor felt that anyone would ever truly understand me. But living the way I have has always led to internal conflicts and disappointments; hence the need to keep bringing up the topic. I suppose, however, there is no harm in taking another look at a lesson that goes back to as far as I can remember with the hope that the next 25 years of my life would be lived differently and, of course, better.

I have given a lot of thought to the words and to the tone that I should use to voice my thoughts. But I still think that I will never be satisfied with what comes out, as this is not something I am used to doing naturally or which I enjoy terribly. And I do want to emphasize that this is not solely based on any single event, but is rather the culmination of a few years of similar disappointments and conflicts that are begging for some form of action.

Well I guess the bottom line is that those you consider as ‘priority 1’ people never cease to surprise you by treating you as a ‘priority 2’ person. There! That’s the best and most simplistic way of putting it! Now I don’t claim to have ever earned or deserved a particular ‘rank’ amongst people, but some things seemed natural to assume on some level after having spent years and lived through a lot together. And I, as sure as hell (yes, it’s just an expression; I don’t believe in hell), have always been a great friend. Well, most of the time at least. But the closest of you to my heart often disturb me with hypocrisy, indifference, and false smiles, and maybe the fact that I always think of you first when it comes to almost anything is what disturbs me most and disgusts me even. And you’ve all proven on more than one occasion who the people you always consider first are, among which I too often was not. I don’t mean that in the fifth grade kind of sense; I am not referring to party invitations or gatherings, although they do serve as a prime example. No, I refer to what is even more evident yet harder to express: your intentions and what I see in your eyes, not to mention the more obvious signs delivered over the years like “It’s just the way it is,” or “Don’t expect,” or sitting alone on bus rides.

And you see, it all makes sense. People often can’t explain the choices they’ve made, and they really, really shouldn’t have to. When I think of the circles of people I chose to introduce into my life, I follow a similar labeling system and instinctively place you first. It always gives me endless pleasure to imagine telling you something or sharing a piece of work with you or even providing you with something I’ve spent quite some time preparing. And I never ever do the same when it comes to some other people, who I also consider as good friends. And I see the same in your eyes when you act similarly towards each other. It’s beautiful actually, and its beauty stems from the fact that it is a choice one makes without having to justify or explain. How on earth can I blame you for not thinking of someone as an important part of your day and a necessity for you to be able to enjoy your time? Who am I to question your needs or what your heart desires? Your choices seem hypocritical and disgusting to me only because it is I who have set those standards and therefore often find myself disturbed and disgusted. So it is my fault, you see.

And this brings me to the core of my point: it is me who I’m mad at now, not you. And it is very important for you to understand that I am trying to zoom out and draw a bigger picture of the whole situation. I know you think I am exaggerating or being too dramatic, but for me it’s really liberating to understand the way things work and to build a stronger me out of our interactions together. And the way I see it, giving close friendship a try has finally paid off precisely because it seems to have failed. I now am convinced of that and am happy to start rectifying my behavior and perspective. I have already wasted too much energy thinking highly of many of you and hoping that with time, things will resolve themselves. But things are only resolved when you choose to resolve them. And by that, I mean that I will no longer depend on your happiness as an ingredient of mine, and I will no longer expect or wait.

Almost every behavior can be changed and schemes of thinking (quite literally) rewired, and this gives me hope. I just have one thing to say to you, my dear, out of all the others, and I’m quite sure you know who you are. You once told me that if I choose to, and really put my all into it, I can be the best out of you all. At the time it really meant nothing to me because you said it and left as usual without paying attention to what I really wanted from you, driving me more into rage. Now I want you to know that, although I spoke of hypocrisy, I never meant you. Others who mean a lot to me really disgust me by indulging everyone and giving away fake smiles and claiming to be strong and independent when all they do is revolve their lives around you and others. But not you. You too hurt me quite a lot and often placed me second and took me for granted with indifference, but there has always been something very genuine and true about you. You are just being yourself, and it is something I can never be mad at for any long period of time. The difference between you and me is (was) that I would never be able to enjoy my time or feel right if you were not there or were being shunned. But that doesn’t matter now. Indeed, the hardest thing I can ever do is to be angry at you. You are the most amazing person I know and you mean a lot to me; I don’t suppose that can ever change. And for the rest of you, I also don’t think that I will ever stop respecting or thinking highly of you. I do not intend to isolate myself or stop considering you as good friends. The only thing I hope will change soon is me, and how much I value what I value.

There is much to be done, and I am looking forward to a lot of work and learning. Almost two years ago, I wrote about inspiration and how much the people around me affected and helped me. Ironically enough, someone I don’t know has recently found that post and quoted it online as a source of inspiration. In it I mentioned that I am very grateful to you and considered some of you even better than I am. Today, I ask: Am I still grateful to you? Yes of course. Are you better than I am? No sir!

I would like to end by mentioning some lines I came across while reading in a magazine dedicated to Albert Einstein and to his work and life. Now I do not claim to be as intelligent or wise as he was (not yet at least), but the following paragraph from his essay “The World As I See It” really made me stop and draw a small smile on my face.

“My passionate sense of social justice and social responsibility has always contrasted oddly with my pronounced lack of need for direct contact with other human beings and human communities. I am truly a “lone traveler” and have never belonged to my country, my home, my friends, or even my immediate family with my whole heart; in the face of all these ties, I have never lost a sense of distance and a need for solitude – feelings which increase with the years. One becomes sharply aware, but without regret, of the limits of mutual understanding and consonance with other people. No doubt such a person loses some of his innocence and unconcern; on the other hand, he is largely independent of the opinions, habits, and judgments of his fellows and avoids the temptation to build his inner equilibrium upon such insecure foundations.”

Now, where was I? Ah yes…

The last few months were particularly harsh on him. Time stood still, leaving him fighting for breath in a horrifying state of mind, shaped by basic elements of fear and despair to an extent he never imagined was possible. He lost the will to go on, and was even deprived of the desire and strength to write or talk about it; it seemed like he had already visited and exhausted those occurrences and feelings a thousand times before, but he had not been blessed with acceptance yet. There is no point in attempting to find a place for them as part of a logical or coherent whole, and he is left with nothing but bits and pieces of images, both lived and dreamt of, with a raging river of rain and alcohol washing the difference away.

*****

His sentence was proclaimed; he is to take his last breath at midnight. He was not ready yet, and that truth pushed down heavily on his chest. His last day of living was something unexpected, and it seemed like such an unjust decision that was thrown coldly in his face when no one watched or listened. Why on earth couldn’t he protest? Why was no one else bothered by this horrifying fate?

He started wandering through the city, scared and insane. He talked to people on the streets, shouted cries of despair, and announced to the world that this was his last day in it. So many things he wanted to do. So many images of unfulfilled dreams and untouched territories fought for a place in his consciousness as the clock ticked away and the sun descended faster than ever. He grew speechless, and had nothing but the company of a mysterious companion who failed to calm him down.

In one day, all dreams shattered, all hope disappeared, and he truly felt the cold selfishness and indifference of the world in his bones. The end approached, and he struggled for a last chance to leave a print on this world and to actually matter. But knowing how impossible that was now, everything became a blur of images and voices that surrounded him like vast waters threatening to swallow a tiny island. He brought his hands close to his face and carefully inspected them as if for the first time. He wanted to burst into tears and to wreak havoc around him, for the idea of not doing all that he wanted to do was too much to bear. Above all, he wished he could find her and look into her eyes like he always wanted to, and to bury his face in her lap and cry and sleep until his end came, knowing he would need nothing but the warmth and security she offered him. But when he couldn’t find her, and the darkness of the night slowly took over, hope was nowhere to be found. As people watched and time was up, breathing proved challenging and he started to choke and tremble with fear. Just when he couldn’t take it anymore, he woke up with all his might to a poorly-lit room and a racing heart that broke the silence. He lay on his bed breathing deeply and trying to recover, and slowly realized that a new day has begun. This thought, however, failed to soothe his distressed mind.

*****

She stood there with her hands on his shoulders and smiled, while he playfully hid his head under her shirt and gently kissed her bellybutton. He slowly made his way upwards, printing kisses on her skin and holding her close, until his lips met her breast and he felt her tremble in his hands. He stood up and kissed her one more time, then held her close to him and closed his eyes. In the peacefulness of the room, they simply stood there united in each other’s arms, and listened to each other breathing. He knew that, when this dream was over, the memory of it would accompany him forever; he just prayed it would help him face what was to come.

*****

There they were again. They seated themselves like they always do and prepared themselves for another wasted day of talking and watching the shadows move on the walls of old houses. It was yet another chapter in a book that never seems to find its last. More drinks, plates, and green olives were summoned to the table. People came and left, and, yet again, time stood still. Important dreams were of course discussed, and past failures were analyzed. The whispers went on as well, as did the serious looks and the private smiles. Everyone took turns in avoiding “what’s wrong?” questions and in asking them, and the same music was played over and over. Eventually, they became one with the leather couch beneath them, where life had previously manifested itself a thousand times with all the heaviness and slowness in the world. And when the time came and it had to end, they left with exhausted minds and bodies and many secret oaths of change and a different tomorrow. At least he did.

*****

It was a time of historical facts; a time when he got to know the different paths and events leading to the characters he always watched but seldom understood. He was living in a chaos of love, hatred, lust, and pain, but on that day he felt like a small lost stream of water finally joining the ocean and eagerly listening to the stories of other streams who made it before. Who knew life had some surprises to offer? He was fascinated by some events, shocked and disappointed by others. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think this was the end of time.

He felt himself leaving his body and watching things like an impartial ghost. After that, every day and every night was like watching a movie. He had the power to slow down time or even pause it, and to simply savor the moment. At some point, sitting alone on an unfamiliar table finishing someone else’s beer and losing himself to the music from his iPod, he became completely paralyzed and could only follow his surroundings with his eyes. He just watched as people laughed, talked, ate, and held hands. He smiled at the familiar feeling visiting him, and embraced the nothingness again; the nothingness that lays down things in a simple manner before his eyes and makes him laugh at how stupid he had been. He loves that feeling, even though, when it passes, it leaves him more lost and troubled than before. And even though time now promises nothing but more randomness and disappointments, he accepted nothingness as his master, and became its prophet. He promised people a bright tomorrow and a day when all things would be better; he spread hope around. What power or guarantees did he have? Nothing – absolutely nothing. But he couldn’t help it.

*****

Dear Sir,

I am truly happy to inform you that we are offering you admission to M.I.T. The Berkeley campus has a strict enrollment ceiling and thus each department is limited in the number of new students it may admit each year. Our department has the difficult task of selecting students with the strongest overall records from a large pool of well-qualified applicants, and you are one of them. Fortunately, this means that we are able to admit you to the Ph.D. in Robotics program at Carnegie Mellon. This decision was reached by the admissions committee after carefully reviewing your application. As you no doubt know, we at Caltech are able to act favorably upon only a small percentage of the thousands of applications we receive each year. In many cases we are unable to offer admission to highly qualified candidates because of limited space and facilities, or because their interests do not coincide sufficiently well with the needs and interests of our faculty. You, however, clearly meet all requirements. Your formal admission letter from Georgia Tech, in addition to other useful information, is available for direct download on our website. We look forward to receiving you at Virginia Tech this Fall, and thank you very much for your application.

Best wishes,
Graduate Affairs Office

P.S. Please do not reply to this e-mail.

*****

The last few months were particularly harsh on him. Time stood still, leaving him fighting for breath in a horrifying state of mind, shaped by basic elements of fear and despair to an extent he never imagined was possible. He lost the will to go on, and was even deprived of the desire and strength to write or talk about it. He let himself go and watched the silver clouds cross the dark sky while the cold wind blasted against his face trying helplessly to wake him up. A week before, he sat outdoors while the gentle muddy raindrops continued to strike his head and land inside the glass of whiskey he was sipping from.

Yes, time did stand still, and he could no longer tell the difference between his days and his nightmares. Washed away by rain, olives, and banality, all backgrounds and colors disappeared, leaving behind a dead man walking, with a thick trace of ashes behind him. A dead man has to find the strength to escape his verdict before he runs into his rope. Maybe this fear is the best thing that ever happened to him.

I do not write so that my words would be loved or hated. I do not write for you to read. I write for me to vent out. I write for me to cope with you. I write to forget you, I write to remember the old you, and I write to get over the whispers, the indifference, and the selfishness you throw in my face. I write to scream with all the will I have inside of me, and I write to exist where you don’t. I write for me.

It is only in the deepest trenches of darkness and despair that any true sense of living can be found. It is only when we surrender to depression and isolate ourselves from all that disrupts, all that disturbs, and all that taints the purity of our senses that we can reach a resolution to go on. It is only when we listen to the right piece of music and close our eyes that we lose all words and simply know what to do. And it is only when we open our eyes again that we can find those words and make them our dear children, our treasured arsenal, and the harbingers of our actions.

I desperately want to forgive myself for the wasted years, forget the shadows around, and move on. I owe myself way too much. Way too much. Way too much. Where can one buy 1095 days?

I only ask that I do not fall back into the abyss, and that I find the strength to hold on to what at some point seemed nothing short of possible.

I cannot sleep easily anymore.

Purpose… Purpose. What is mine? I have no idea. How am I supposed to proceed? In which direction? Does it really matter? Where is this all going? Should I let go? Is it simpler than I think? Why can’t I truly enjoy my friends’ company? Why can’t I… move on? What threatens me? What shakes me so easily? Why am I depressed? Too many loose ends perhaps. Too many dreamy plans. I think this is it. I often forget that I shouldn’t just change my goals and hope for better results; I should rather change myself, my way of thinking, and my techniques. I have come to the same crossroads again: to wither and dissolve, or to get up and work. It’s usually an easy choice for me, but not lately. Dissolving is tempting these days. Letting go and taking a shortcut. What the heck is the point? Why can’t Nietzsche’s words fuel me anymore? Would it take a good book to get over this? A good drink? Perhaps a near-death experience? A missile to shatter my room and dear possessions? A disease? The smile of a girl? Music? Something from inside of me? What, damn it? What?

I am so close. I can almost touch my goals. I just lost momentum.