jeudi 3 mai 2012

85ème Lettre

Syma, à l'age de 13 ans, a perdu son pere. Elle crée un blog où elle lui écrit des lettres afin de lui raconter les évènements de sa vie. Maintenant, agée de 17 ans, elle décide de lui écrire sa dernière lettre.

jeudi 12 avril 2012

Dernière Lettre


Salut Pap,

C’est la 85ème lettre que je t’écris. Ça commence à me faire peur, tu sais. Ecrire à quelqu’un qui n’est plus la depuis 4 ans, à un mort quoi !! C’est la première foi que j’utilise ce mot : « mort ». On nous a dit que d’un côte il y avait le monde des vivants, et que de l’autre côte c’était le monde des morts. Histoire de nous diviser… Bref, on ne peut plus communiquer… Et moi je fais quoi si j’ai envie de parler avec toi ?... J’ai ouvert l’une de ces pages dans lesquelles on dit tout, pour soi, quelque pars dans le monde : un blog ! L’idée peut sembler complètement folle mais c’est la seule que j’ai pu réaliser. A chaque fois que j’appuyais sur « publier » je me sentais mieux, plus proche de toi. Un blog… plein de messages que tout le monde peut lire mais que tu n’as pas lus. Pourtant, c’est curieux, mais, du coup c’est comme su tu étais la, c’est comme si la famille était de nouveau réunie. Je te parlais, quoi. Tu étais vraiment là dans mes lettres, un peu comme si tu étais juste en voyage, en Arabie, comme d’habitude.

Mais rien n’était pareil. Les Noëls, les anniversaires, les moments en famille…
Toutes les petites choses que tu faisais, tous ces petits gestes que tu avais l’habitude de faire et que je ne remarquais plus, je les revoyais devant mon écran : décidément, tu n’étais plus là pour les faire. Il y a bien toujours quelques soirs ou j’attends ton appel de 8h, mais ce n’est plus la même attente angoissée, c’est plutôt un souvenir qui me fait sourire.

Et c’est à chaque fois que je ressentais cette absence que je revenais à mon clavier pour te parler de moi, de mes peines, de tout et de rien… et aussi de toi ! À chaque nouvelle lettre qui partait, c’était un peu de soulagement… Peu à peu, la clarté de la sortie du tunnel c’est approchée. Puis, un jour, le sentiment d’avoir affranchi quelque chose : oui, tu peu le dire, je me sentais… « Mieux »… Puis, les lettres se sont espacées… Dire que je m’en voulais, certains jours, de tarder à t’écrire, toi qui ne peux pas me lire ! Cette « folie », je suis prête à la quitter, au moment de comprendre que tu es dans mon cœur, voila tout ! Car après tout, te faut-il des lettres pour le savoir ?

Pap, je suis certaine que tu le comprendras… ici s’achève ma dernière lettre.

mercredi 1 février 2012

Letter 84


Daddy! I forgot to tell you something! Guess what?! I just got accepted early admission AUB! AHHH I’m so happy it’s not even funny. I never thought I’d get in. I don’t know why. I guess I always thought my grades suck and I’m generally a bad student (grade wise). Í guess it’s normal to get that impression when every year there’s always someone reminding me that I suck. So TAKE THAT ALL OF YOU! I swear I feel so much better.

ALTHOUGH… I got in Studio arts which is a program that “seeks to train students in skills and concepts needed to develop as practicing artists and to make meaningful statements in the visual arts. It offers a core program with flexibility in the choice of studio concentrations in painting, sculpture and ceramics.” Not bad. But! But, I’m waiting to see if I get accepted in Graphic Design as a regular applicant. I just sent in my scores a few weeks ago so they must arrive soon. So fingers crossed!

Love you daddy. I have to go study philosophy, I have a test tomorrow so.. I’ve got to hurry up and revise some more if I want to get a good mark.

I miss you terribly.

Your Samsouma


Letter 83

Hi Dad!

How are you? To tell you the truth, I do great during the day despite the work and the occasional bad grade but when I come home my mood plummets down the drain. The main cause recently? Mom.

Lately, we just can’t stand each other. I think it’s because we’re so close. When she has a bad day and has to put a face on in front of everyone else, when we’re alone she gets all quiet and aggressive if I ever say something wrong. The worst thing is, when I have an okay day and I want to share there is no one except mom. But mom is all grumpy and doesn’t even make an effort to pretend to be listening to me. It gets on my nerves so when I try to get her attention or opinion she stays passive. When I get frustrated she become hostile.

I just can’t stand being yelled at anymore. I’m not a kid anymore! And okay I understand she needs to let off steam but I have my limits too. So in three days mom qualified me as arrogant, selfish, ungrateful bitch who takes for granted everything she does for me. How can I not be hurt by this? Seriously, I can’t stand this anymore. I can’t stand her shouting, her insulting, her absent mindedness.

God it’s starting to get on my last nerve. I don’t know what I’m going to do. Last time not speaking to her for a few days didn’t solve anything. But if she doesn’t want to do an effort to be a tiny bit more present then I’m not going to do any effort at all. The only thing she’ll see of me is my closed bedroom door. Enough is enough. I’m nobody’s punching bag anymore I can’t take it. Finito. Done. If she wants to talk to me, a kiss or a note isn’t going to suffice. I want an apology. That’s it. I don’t give a damn if her ego takes a hit. I haven’t done anything. I only asked a quarter of attention and I get a scolding. Fuck this shit (sorry for the language I gave it my best shot to be polite but it’s too much for me…)

Je t’aime comme ça

I miss you soo much


lundi 26 décembre 2011

Letter 82

Hi Dad!
How are you? I woke up today with this eerie feeling. Like something was wrong. I think it started with this weird dream I had. It might sound stupid but it really disturbed me. I went crazy and they sent me to an asylum. They put me in a strait jacket. But the worst part of the dream was the feeling and emotions that went through me. It scared me. I felt hatred, anger, rage, torment, pain… sadness. It was like nothing that I ever felt before. I felt this extreme pressure in my chest. When I woke up, at first I didn’t remember the nightmare but that pressure in my chest was there. It wasn’t until later that it came back to me.  It’s 7 P.M. and the feeling still comes and goes. I want it gone.
The worst is that yesterday, my friend’s grandmother had a stroke. And fell into a coma. The doctors gave her a month to live. She died today…  I want so bad to be there with him, to help him though this tough time. I can’t stand him being so sad. He’s leaving tonight to go to France and stay with his family.
I guess in a way I hate that life goes on even though it seems like it stopped for you or someone else. I guess that’s what I don’t understand… Here I am on vacation, celebrating Christmas, tanning at the pool, a trip to Dubai planned the next day etc. while my friend is grieving the loss of a family member.
I hate these situations. I find myself at a loss for words. Whatsapp is so impersonal and makes it impossible to help in any way. I know that if it was me I would just want a hug and someone to just be there. How can I do that when I’m so far away?? I guess I’m frustrated. That’s what this feeling is. Frustration, guilt and this sensation of being powerless.
But the slap in the face is my philosophy teacher’s voice in my head, reciting the chapter on existentialism. Death is harsh. Very... We know that it’s going to happen to everyone but we still get shocked when it actually comes knocking at our door. It scares the crap out of me. It’s not the actual “I’m going to die” part of death, but it’s the “what comes after?” that gets my heart racing.
I guess you know the answer to that question.
I love you dad, so much
There’s a void without you...

Letter 81

Hi Dad!
How are you? I miss you. I'm in Muscat now... The youneses are here this year. So the house is fuller than last year. It's the 26th today. Christmas came and went. It was a nice night. It actually flew by so quickly. In a way I'm glad. It was very fun and relaxed. It didn't feel like a duty. I didn't put much effort to entertain the "kids" like every year. I hung out with them for an hour and didn't feel bad leaving them the rest of the night. This year there was a band. An Omani one. Their playlist was nice. They played Long Train Runnin' and I thought of you. Not that I wasn't thinking about you during the whole night. Christmas isn't the same without you here. Especially when you used to sing Christmas carols and stress one some words. Hadi does that you know?  I miss you so much you do not understand.
To tell you the truth this year I wasn't so happy to come here. Not because I don't have a lot fun here. It's just this year I wanted to spend the vacation with my friends. I haven't seen them much since everyone started university... So I was hoping to see them before coming here but it didn't work out. I miss them. A lot actually. I saw a couple of them 2 weeks ago when I dropped off my SAT scores at AUB. I only saw them for a few minutes. Not nearly enough. They were exhausted and looked worn out which scared me a bit seeing that I’m applying to go there next year.
I love you pap.
And miss you so so much.
Love always
Your Symz

mardi 6 décembre 2011

Letter 80


Hi Dad!

I guess I told you about the diet thing. I’m still on it. Right now it’s frustrating and irritating. It stagnated and I haven’t lost much in the past few week, months really. In total I lost around 14 kilos. I have no clothes that look good on me and I know it would be useless to buy some now but with what I lost until now I want to be able to dress better. Mom’s clothes are not my style so I can’t really raid her closet like I did yours… The past 2 weeks have been the hardest. Between the studies and the no food… Last time I was at Dr. Saliba, I asked him to give me a more varied plan because it was too repetitive and if I continued with the same food I would turn into a chicken that shits lettuce. “You are what you eat” right? So he gave me an amazing diet: Risotto, Sushi, Man’ouche, hamburgers… So after I starve at school, I arrive at home and eat…. Soup. Or salad. I’m not asking mum to cook and I don’t want to bother her… But she could help me out a bit. So I get even more frustrated adding the fact that I haven’t lost much and I take it out on mom. She’s the only one I can let out steam one. Then that turns into ugly –useless- fights then we get angry and leave. So there’s been a lot of tension between us. Especially that we don’t see each other much. Home isn’t so homey much these days.

Then there’s this one fight that got me so pissed off that I ended up sleeping over at Lyn’s. The thing is that I could have been avoided if mom let me take a cab. Simple solution right? That morning I had SAT. So I asked a friend to pick me up and go together. At around 2 mom was to pick me up after her brunch and drop me off at the Badminton tournament next to the airport. Mom called her friends at her cards game to tell them that she was going to be a bit late. Ok great! I felt a bit guilty because I knew she hated being late. So we arrived on the airport road and there was more traffic. My friend was giving me direction we missed the turn and then mom was furious. She started yelling at me non stop. The problem is that the day before I told her that I could take a cab it would be easier and now she was screaming at me. So I got mad and raised my voice telling her to stop. I know, I’m the daughter and I'm not supposed to talk like that but I was tired, I was supposed to play but they wouldn’t postpone my matches and I was missing out on three quarter of the game. She then said, ‘When you see me angry shut up’ and that made me furious. I replied no. I’m not 5 to be scared of someone because they’re angry much less shut up when I haven’t done anything. We found the place finally, I said thank you and left. All that because she was going to be late for her cards. Apart from that ugly morning and disgusting early afternoon, I had a nice time.

A bit of good news! Remember I told you about the dog? We didn’t end up getting a Golden Retriever but TWO French bulldogs. I know “WTF?!” right? First I chose one and all everything was paid for but he had diarrhea so we left him in the shop for a week. During that time mom couldn’t sleep because she liked his sister so much. So now each of us have their own dog.


Meet Kenzo (Male, Black one) and Kloe (Female, White one).  They’re the cutest.

I have to go… I have so much work to do.

Love you soooooo much

And it’s useless to tell you how much I miss you