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Dega Nando's

1er octobre 2017.

Je suis allé chez Nando’s, j’ai rencontré Dega, la serveuse, somalienne.

Elle m’a raconté qu’à 12 ans elle est arrivée en France, à Lyon.

Je lui ai demandé combien de temps elle y est restée, elle m’a dit peu de temps, que la France lui a dit, à elle et à sa famille de retourner dans son pays.

Le pays était en guerre, il l’est encore. 

Je lui ai présenté mes excuses pour mon pays, elle m’a souri et m’a dit gentiment qu’elle aimait toujours les français. 

Je lui ai dit au revoir, avec mon sac à la main je suis rentré chez moi, ignorant du sort des autres.
Mon poulet avait le gout de la honte. 

When We fight.

 

You are not here anymore, it gave me distance. It's 11:42pm, I just saw Anna at the flat, she just came to spend the night I thought. I was wondering why she just doesn’t stay at her boyfriends place. 

I am naive sometimes… or I don't know why things are. 

We were talking, about relations, love and how I treated you. She said I was good to you, I did not agree. 

After some arguments and anecdotes about our dynamic when you were here, she looked down and started to break, her eyes wet and the body trying to repress the emotion. But she has the courage to cry and stare at my face, with strength. The feelings slapped me.

I was stuck. It was your eyes getting wet, I could see it on her face, but I was not the source of it. 

It has been a while since the tears of a woman close to me provoked some compassion and did not put me in a state of rage. Because I remember yours and the madness it opened in me, how these eyes filled with salt would just burn my pain even more. Your tears were just sparking my misery and I would scream it all on you. 

I told her that it was hard to be alone but in a way I feel good to have this trial period, this test of us. Trying to know myself alone again. Awake the pain and the shadow of me, my dear friend, his hand in mine, walking and falling. Feeling the anxiety and the panther on my back, holding the leash and keeping it close to me. 

But I said it was shit to be like this, not knowing how to position ourselves in the months to come. Being together but planning not to be. 

I said it’s an occasion for me to let go of you, to let you grow, without me being a bad influence, a negative energy in your life. As soon as you changed city it seemed to have work for you, I cannot decide if its the country or the man you left behind. 

I don’t want to be the anchor of you. I can destroy myself but as soon as I see that it hurts you I become even crazier, because you are good. Show me a mirror with my dark soul and I'll smile to a friend, but if I realise you are the one holding it to my face with fear, I'll break it into pieces, I'll destroy it and you might be the damages. 

Suddenly Anna started to cry, and it opened something in me. It was good to feel, to stop being numb. Seeing what she experiences with her boyfriend as the way I acted with you. In a different way but in a very similar structure of thoughts in the men we become. Self destruction, conscious and inflicted to our own, but as soon as the pain spreads to you, it becomes unbearable. 

When you started to cry in our fights, it would drive me even crazier. I would get mad at you for dropping the first tear. You couldn’t understand. Your tears would open the flow of darkness in me.  Deep down I knew this anger was for the asshole I am that made you cry. This woman who cares about me more than I do, who love me more than I do.

But I don’t. The fight is unfair, I am good at hating myself.