Lined Notebook Diary

Part 1: Figen

Does my name matter at all? But the things i am going to tell you does matter. Names, cities and locations are merely shadows. I can not be said to be very successful in confession, I generally confess only to myself. Sharing with someone else is like another mind that needs to be controlled. But when readers can't see me, does anything that is not visible can ever be seen? You're my blind witness daily, so be it.

That week was a boring week. Which month, which year was not really boring anyway? Life for me, was a story in which the next page would be hopefully more beautiful, a future tomorrow that the sun will shine brighter, so what tomorrow will it finally be? Once upon a time I would like to visit places that have not been seen. But I can't wish anymore because I certainly don't have enough money to do so. There is a saying; not who reads a lot, but who wanders well knows well. I am not convinced to the fact that those who have a lot of money may be more knowledgeable. I have an objection, then I choose to read a lot!

It was Monday, I came home from school. We were working so hard at school. My brain was turning into molasses. I know how to make molasses, you boil the ingredients for a long period of time. Here ... The thoughts in my brain turn into a dark slurry from boiling too much and stick to my skull. So I'm talking about that kind of tiredness and intensity. There was no fixed time for us to leave the school, whenever our lesson ended, we took it off. You know, we did not attend classes at 10:00 in the morning and returned at 16:00 in the evening, sometimes we would be back early, sometimes late. And it's usually very very late.

I hastily changed my clothes and removed my favorite pajamas from my diaper closet. My favorite so this is my only pajamas, light blue, plush. While pulling the zipper that my diaper will be weary from his life, he dreamed about it like this and laid on it's side. I guess the poor thing has suffered a lot of suffering in the hands of it's former owner. Then I went to the kitchen. I answered a phone call and eventually I had to invite a friend and immediately started cooking pasta by stove. Pasta, despite being practical, delicious and inexpensive, is a food that allows creativity. It is possible to make various kinds of sauces, your only limit is your imagination. Today there is garlic, it is also good for flu, if we mix it with a little butter and tomato paste, this is okay.

The door knocked, this must have been Figen arriving. I opened the door and greeted her with a short smile, then pointed at it with my eyes, and I welcomed her halfway. Sketchy because I had to lift and drain the pasta on the stove as soon as possible.When I went to the kitchen, I heard Figen's shouting,

"Gizem nobody will come if you happen to have a funeral tomorrow!

She tries to say that I am very antisocial, mixed with a joke. My friends also find me soulless because I am not a ritualistic being  like them. For example, if the pasta that is cooking on the stove and which needs to be drained was not drained in time, it is again Figen who will yell "yuck!" while eating what has become porridge. So in a way, I bypass the assumptions that I find unnecessary because I think of my loved ones. Unnecessary things like saying good morning in the morning, saying goodbye when leaving a place, saying "oh welcome my dear, you are blessed!" to my guest at a moment when I am in a hurry. If it is unreasonable, please just skip-past it! Is not it?

"Come on Figen, we're not meeting new!" 

"Yes dear, it's been exactly 1 year and 4 months!"

I was busy serving the pasta to the table in the living room when I saw Figen lying on the sofa. She looked so comfortable that it was like her mother who served. Indeed, she was like a child, definitely a little less mature if I compare her to myself. She stretched one of her legs completely, shaking the foot from the ankle to the right and left. By bending her other leg from it's knee which was erected in the air, she leaned it on the back of the sofa. The thin black pantyhose covering her legs were shining brightly with the help of her mini skirt, which is revealingly upturned in this position. She supported one hand under his head by bending one hand from the back of her wrists and held the phone with the other hand.