A little introduction: when I was around six years old I had an imaginary friend called Marjeanne. She was not only imaginary, but also lived far away, in France. Therefore, I only wrote letters to her. Later at school I tried to believe in her again in order to practice my French, but for me age fifteen it was somehow impossible to write a letter to someone who, simply, doesn't exist. Recently Frank (being imaginary person himself) made me realized that whether she exists or not only depends on myself. So I started to write to Marjeanne again. I just had so many things to tell her.
Dear Marjeanne,
After Alonso left I realized how difficult it is to cook for one person only. Some other day I wanted to buy some parts of chicken but I couldn't find any small portion and I don't have enough space in my freezer to buy any larger packs. In fact, I rarely cook these days and even noticed I don't need to eat so frequently anymore. My dad came over with a short visit and I finally cooked this pasta with cheese sauce and seafood. I have to admit, it was delicious.
It's been only several months as I back to study and I already feel like it's been my life. I am completely devoted to my dissertation. To make a confession, I even stopped writing. It is a pity indeed, but some of that stuff was too personal to be published anyway. As you might have guessed, never finished that novel I used to write some years ago. Looks like every year I write another part, then I put it back. Maybe one day it will evolve and surprise me but it is not about to happen just yet.
Recently I have been thinking a lot. You may say I have changed some of my life priorities, but as you know me, you know I am shit scared of changes. I just have a impression that some formulas in my life are simply expired. In particular, I am overwhelmed with a driving force of my reality, which is the myth of success. It's noting else but the way people perceive reality and talk about it. Apparently a main path of all of your actions should be a path towards success. Or better a highway. Don't even dare hitchhiking.
According to that invisible power you're meant to crave money, as much as you can choke on it so it will give you a position of someone being almost a noble one, almost I would say, a mystic.
That power also has a second side: it assumes you belong to some certain group of people. Every group of such kind has its' own attributes which are, as it's concluded, your own. If you do not have these attributes yourself, the social eye of appropriateness will search for ones within you. Then, once they get a hint, they'll treat you according to the rules of treatment of a certain group. Assuming, you are never yourself.
Either what you really want doesn't matter. Neither who you are. People always have their ow bunch of cliche ready for you.
It doesn't hurt, Marjeanne. You get immuned. Until one day a person you care appear to see you as someone else. Then, my dear Marjeanne, you start to fear.
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