Anabiose (French Edition)
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Governor General's Award for French to English translation
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My clothes smell of disinfectant. How do they do that without waking me up? They must be putting something in the lemon water. I can feel a kind of rebellion forming inside me. A knot in my stomach. What can I do? My skirt is too big. They run around in circles. I place my skirt on the mattress. No more nausea, no more headache.
No more ache in my muscles. I can do 50 push-ups. But no more than that. I prefer to run. I can run for what seems like hours. There is something in the lemon water.
Which allows me to do all that. The taste is different. The taste of the sleeping pill through the lemon has become evident. I can choose not to drink. My thighs have changed. My body has changed. It marks the passage of time. The globe on the ceiling is too high to return my reflection. The pitchers are made of plastic.
A material that reflects nothing. And there is no one to tell me. I always sought isolation. I built it around me. They weighed too heavily on me. They caused me pain. With their looks, their questions. Their image of me.
Governor General's Award for French to English translation
The image of who I no longer was. I lacked the words. And if I found the words, no one wanted to hear them. They kept clashing with the old version of me. Not for a very long time. But no one listened. No one listens to change. And I no longer knew who I was.
I no longer knew what to say. I decided not to say anything anymore. No one really noticed.
Same thing at work. Working in an isolated cubicle, with only the voices of the dissatisfied, no one looking at me. Just floating voices that protest, demand, scream. I can do that. I do it well. And then I go home, my mind at rest. Home, I miss my home. A home for me. I was waiting for things to change.
Tureng - anabiosis - Turkish English Dictionary
I think I was. Without doing anything to bring about the change. Now, things have changed. I forget who I was. Why I avoided things. That fear was nothing. It was the fear of my own shadow.
Babylon NG
Brought on by pride. In the heads of others. But there is still a desire for life. A desire not to die. A desire not to go crazy. To keep control of my mind.
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I am not going to concede. Always my first thought. I think about tomorrow, which will be the same. A stream of unbearable days. I refuse this thought. I push the thought far back in my mind, behind a grey concrete wall. I concentrate on the next minute. I take off my skirt. I pitch it at the mattress.
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It hits the wall. I run all the same. When my lungs start to burn, I stop thinking. A vague feeling of accomplishment.