Hello, Nick!
Thanks for a sincere letter. I have never dreamt of solitude consciously in my life. Moreover, I used to dream of love, of home, of my own family, though presently I am so bitter disappointed and worn-out from a constant process of banal survival in which it seems I don’t succeed. I mean I survive, of course, but I am changing to a worse side, and from time to time I catch myself comprehending those changes. For example, I do not hear poems in my head any more, they merely don’t appear in my mind and I deeply miss that time when it happened. It was great! It was magic! It was me! So, my personalities are erasing and the genuine talent and responsiveness are replacing with embitterment and even more disgraceful envy. For instance, when I am riding my bike through the district of private houses on my way to Dima’s home (one of my pupils) I start my thinking with the admiration of that or another new building or recently built house (I know that area as my five fingers since I used to work as a district nurse there) and finish with shameful envy catching myself on the angry question in my head that it is me alone who is not becoming richer at all, and on the contrary turning only poorer and poorer.
What is really killing me now is that my dream of creative work is crushing. The point is that as a private entrepreneur (the private English language …show more content…
But it’s unbearable shame to take money from her in my forties. The thig is, while I was taking her money, I sincerely believed that I can change my social situation for the better through immigration. Hence, my English skills (my bread now), which are originated from my flamboyant wish to immigrate to stand on my own feet in a material sense and even return Yulia (my sister) my enormous debt for all years she supported me practically monthly since a nurse’s salary is extremely
Thanks for a sincere letter. I have never dreamt of solitude consciously in my life. Moreover, I used to dream of love, of home, of my own family, though presently I am so bitter disappointed and worn-out from a constant process of banal survival in which it seems I don’t succeed. I mean I survive, of course, but I am changing to a worse side, and from time to time I catch myself comprehending those changes. For example, I do not hear poems in my head any more, they merely don’t appear in my mind and I deeply miss that time when it happened. It was great! It was magic! It was me! So, my personalities are erasing and the genuine talent and responsiveness are replacing with embitterment and even more disgraceful envy. For instance, when I am riding my bike through the district of private houses on my way to Dima’s home (one of my pupils) I start my thinking with the admiration of that or another new building or recently built house (I know that area as my five fingers since I used to work as a district nurse there) and finish with shameful envy catching myself on the angry question in my head that it is me alone who is not becoming richer at all, and on the contrary turning only poorer and poorer.
What is really killing me now is that my dream of creative work is crushing. The point is that as a private entrepreneur (the private English language …show more content…
But it’s unbearable shame to take money from her in my forties. The thig is, while I was taking her money, I sincerely believed that I can change my social situation for the better through immigration. Hence, my English skills (my bread now), which are originated from my flamboyant wish to immigrate to stand on my own feet in a material sense and even return Yulia (my sister) my enormous debt for all years she supported me practically monthly since a nurse’s salary is extremely