Pages from my life
“I tell you Jimmy, I’m tired. I can’t take this anymore. This English Literature is strangling me. With each day the noose gets tighter and tighter and I feel myself hanging on for dear life.” I sighed and fell upon the chair next to the bed as I spoke these words. “What seems to be the problem Billy?” asked Jimmy. I looked at his face and then turned towards the window and watched the sun set upon the horizon, and wondered what was wrong. With my mind still in its dizziness I tried to answer Jimmy’s question with the little sanity that was left of me. “What’s the problem you ask? It’s these books, that’s what! They are starting to haunt me. I’m starting to lose my mind and myself. With each book and each page, a part of me seems to be lost. They are gnawing me, my mind, I can’t take it!”
Jimmy, with a surprised and confused look spoke up, “I don’t get you. What is happening? Come on man, speak up.”
“You wanna know what’s wrong? Ok, I’ll tell you what’s wrong. It’s what these books have to say… On one hand they provoke you to have liaison after liaison and on the other they reprove of it. On one hand they raise my hopes that a man like me can even have 12 year lover like Lolita, whereas on the other hand you have ideas of platonic love. Thoughts creep though my head about my wife being a Lady Chatterley but I fear of being the next Othello. I removed my maid, so I won’t fall in love with her like Pamela and didn’t even confiscate her letters. I’m afraid of going out at night for the fear that my dead father may come before me stating his death was a murder and conspiracy. I am afraid of transgender people on the road for the fear that they may be witches and foretell me of a prophecy which might lead me to my own doom. I am afraid of boarding any boat or ship for the fear of being abandoned on a desolate island for 28 years or landing on an island full of little people. I am even afraid of sleeping nowadays. What if I fall asleep and wake up to find myself transformed into a female, like Orlando. I love being a man. But what if then I start sermonizing about the female liberation and patriarchal domination being harmful, and then one day I suddenly realize the urge of putting my head in the oven or trying to drown myself with pebbles in my pocket?! What if, one day I realize that my name is not Billy, but Earnest, and I was lost in a handbag in a railway station! I could never cope with that. I tell you Jimmy, my whole world seems to be on the brink of shattering… I fear that when I wait for someone to arrive, they like Godot may never arrive and I may have to wait an eternity. I don’t even read a lot for the very fear of conjuring up Mephistopheles who would help me make a pact with Satan. I ask You Jimmy, what if…”
Just then my wife entered the room, and with a questionable look upon her face asked, “What are you doing honey?” I replied, “Nothing Dear. Just telling Jimmy how this literature is driving me crazy!”
“Billy dear, Jimmy is in Canada for the last seven years, and you don’t read these books now, it was a long time ago. You’re 71 years old and retired now. You were hallucinating, and why won’t you? You hardly sleep these days. Come now dear, go get some sleep, while I go get the groceries from the market with Kevin.”
“Who’s Kevin?”
“Why dear, he’s our gardener.”
Before I could speak, she was gone. As I lay there gasping I suddenly heard a faint ringing which grew with each second until I could make out… it was the sound of my alarm clock ringing and the sound of my mother shouting, “Wake up Billy, you’ll be late for your college again. You’re 22 years old and yet you have to be woken up by your mother each morning.”
Jimmy, with a surprised and confused look spoke up, “I don’t get you. What is happening? Come on man, speak up.”
“You wanna know what’s wrong? Ok, I’ll tell you what’s wrong. It’s what these books have to say… On one hand they provoke you to have liaison after liaison and on the other they reprove of it. On one hand they raise my hopes that a man like me can even have 12 year lover like Lolita, whereas on the other hand you have ideas of platonic love. Thoughts creep though my head about my wife being a Lady Chatterley but I fear of being the next Othello. I removed my maid, so I won’t fall in love with her like Pamela and didn’t even confiscate her letters. I’m afraid of going out at night for the fear that my dead father may come before me stating his death was a murder and conspiracy. I am afraid of transgender people on the road for the fear that they may be witches and foretell me of a prophecy which might lead me to my own doom. I am afraid of boarding any boat or ship for the fear of being abandoned on a desolate island for 28 years or landing on an island full of little people. I am even afraid of sleeping nowadays. What if I fall asleep and wake up to find myself transformed into a female, like Orlando. I love being a man. But what if then I start sermonizing about the female liberation and patriarchal domination being harmful, and then one day I suddenly realize the urge of putting my head in the oven or trying to drown myself with pebbles in my pocket?! What if, one day I realize that my name is not Billy, but Earnest, and I was lost in a handbag in a railway station! I could never cope with that. I tell you Jimmy, my whole world seems to be on the brink of shattering… I fear that when I wait for someone to arrive, they like Godot may never arrive and I may have to wait an eternity. I don’t even read a lot for the very fear of conjuring up Mephistopheles who would help me make a pact with Satan. I ask You Jimmy, what if…”
Just then my wife entered the room, and with a questionable look upon her face asked, “What are you doing honey?” I replied, “Nothing Dear. Just telling Jimmy how this literature is driving me crazy!”
“Billy dear, Jimmy is in Canada for the last seven years, and you don’t read these books now, it was a long time ago. You’re 71 years old and retired now. You were hallucinating, and why won’t you? You hardly sleep these days. Come now dear, go get some sleep, while I go get the groceries from the market with Kevin.”
“Who’s Kevin?”
“Why dear, he’s our gardener.”
Before I could speak, she was gone. As I lay there gasping I suddenly heard a faint ringing which grew with each second until I could make out… it was the sound of my alarm clock ringing and the sound of my mother shouting, “Wake up Billy, you’ll be late for your college again. You’re 22 years old and yet you have to be woken up by your mother each morning.”