I almost died yesterday ...

This morning as well but, damn, yesterday. I was really close to pass away.

The worst thing is that nobody believed me. I have to admit I didn't weigh heavily with my arguments though. I had none.
The only thing I remember is having damned freaked out. A blue funk, to be truly precise.

But it was obviously not enough to convince. Nowadays you must put words on everything to be taken seriously. I'm far for being one with words though, fortunately there's Joelle, my mum's colleague. She knows how to put into words everyone's pain, especially mine. She certainly is the person who knows me best in the whole world. She's surely good at everything that concerns Human Sciences, she subscribed to Psychologies magazine. She is an accountant. I've never seen her.

The first time Joelle stepped in my life, I was about five years old. I'm still grateful to her.
At five years old, routine already well established, I was spending my Wednesday afternoons with my grandmother, watching the TV movies on channel 6. Children exchanged at birth, children with cancer, children exchanged at birth with cancer, the channel 6 too had its  routine. Once, however, probably due to a miss from the programming team, neither tears nor drama but a love story. And a love scene. I, five years old, titillated more than ever by anything new, was dazzled by such a thing. Saylor Moon turning half naked in a puff of smoke was by far the most daring spectacle to which I had been exposed. I started wondering whether or not what I saw was an Universal thing. I wish Lucie, my best friend at kindergarden, was there. She surely was the most beautiful girl my eyes got to stare at so far. She was home though, like anyone else when 5. What a life. So that evening, I simply broke the privacy rule established in the house and entered in the bathroom when my mother was there; staring at her. Mistake. A slap, a reprimand, and in bed.

The next morning, head to head with my father; we had seen happier breakast. He's not at ease with words either. He tries though, which often appears to be awkward, but moving. I guess. So, between two sips of coffee, he broke the silence, "I know what you're going through, I was your age too, you know. But it's your mother, you should not. I mean, you can not.". What the h***? Anyways, regarding the tension of the moment I just wanted to shorten the thing up, for me as for him. So I just said "I agree Dad, not Mom". We went to school.

The evening, everyone has changed tone. Joelle had intervened.

In a second Joelle drawn a fastidious analysis of the night before's scene. It is all the fault of Oedipus said my mother. Joelle had highlighted everything: the attraction of the young child to the parent of the opposite sex and the desire to kill the parent of the same sex, seen as a rival. That is, the "Oedipus complex". I was normal. What a joy in the house. Even my father could barely be happier after hearing the news. No matter if I wanted to kill him, I was normal. It's amazing how few simple words can make us accept everything.

Then, in order not to disappoint anyone, I stared at my father and told him "I hate you" while hugging my mother, plunging my head between her two breasts; just for the form. Everyone was satisfied. Joelle put into practise her psychological evening readings, my parents were happy not to have failed in my education and have a normal son. As for me, I could continue to satisfy my naughty questionings without any embarrassment; in the name of Oedipus.

Well, I just wish it did not have to be my with my mother though.

to be continued...