Natalia Belenkaya (natsla) wrote,
Natalia Belenkaya

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записки из под

Буду публиковать здесь свои письма к одному чуваку (без его ответов). Тем более, что ему это, как я понимаю, пох.

Вот, например, от 30 декабря:

Charge me a shekel for this letter, if you have to, next time I see you. Your replies and attention, of course, are priceless, but at least it's a symbolic gesture.
Anyway, just seen "Memento" and it made me think about what actually happened to me after 1989, I mean, after we left Russia?
3.5 years later, when I had to pass the literature exam in my school, my teachers had a hard time "recognising" the old me. I guess my answers were of a degradating/-ed person.
I mean, I wonder, is the whole topic of adolescent emigration psychology even researched enough? Are the shrinks who treat/-ed me here familiar with its concepts, or is their treatment kak budto nichego ne sluchilos'? You know, I wasn't God knows how stable even before this whole emigration thing, but look at me now. I mean, I Iearned how to conceal some of my natural weaknesses, etc., but hey.
Anyway, I feel like that Levsha from a russian cartoon, running up and down the stairs, screaming "Skazhite gosudaryu, shto u anglichan ruzhya kirpichom ne chistyat, tak shtoby i u nas ne chistili!!!" Like, something happenned to me, I somehow survived, but I'm willing to prevent that from others, or at least get 'em informed, but first of all get maximum information on that myself, and GET HEALED. Find my way home, tak skazat'. Or at least to board _some_ train that is still at my disposal.

It's funny, but my brother calls ME up to get psychological help, to tell me how it saddens him, all those family relationships, to get sent to devil by Dad and not being able to express his anger properly, etc. So, like, he looks up to me. This means I'm not all that unstable and weak. I guess I did some growing - after all, I am my 27 at some points, right? I may be short, and ne znayu zhizni, etc. - but I guess I can take it all in my hands, and get some hold at least over my own life, if not of others'. (Which - yeah, yeah - I don't really need, I guess, the latter.)
Er... I guess I just wanna hear you say I AM a grown-up. Of some kind, of course, RDMS or another. And... that you (don't) know how lucky you are to have left Russia, resenting it, and not missing it so much, I assume. I mean, you did a significant part of your growing here, I guess. Still wondering, how in the world did you survive? Got any tips for me at this point of my life, age, your knowledge of me, your mood, etc.? What was it for you - family support (your Father, etc.), religion, natural wit, friends, "lust for life", altogether?
What do I do not to fall apart, besides what I usually do, like calming/disturbing myself, etc.?
Wonder if it's a victory that I didn't cry last night, when I've usually cried a river, after a fight with Mom. Like, each time I tried to - I just had this stop in my chest, instead of burst. Was this manly or what? ;)

Yeah. Thanks. Even if - blah, blah - you're "an abstraction" for me, meaning we don't really see each other or talk much, etc., etc. - I... well... you know. Sometimes I feel something so tear-jerkingly warm and longing - or grateful - or just friendly - for you, that I just had to say it. Here, said it. :) You're one of those, if not the one, of whom my "bastion Sily" consists. I guess that's called "to rely on someone". I just know you're _there_. I try not to abuse it, but it feels - and hope this is not yet another illusion of mine - safe.

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