Sevda Khatamian | Lazy Letter: Tough Life
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Lazy Letter: Tough Life

I have already sent you text messages, and have fully updated you with the flood of bad news on my end. But I thought I write all about it anyway. I’m not even sure if you receive any of my letters anymore. Lots of thoughts have been running through my mind, and I’ve been disgusted for so many times. No wonder why my concentration level has dropped down to almost zero.

I’m still in here in town, and there’s no trace of much-expected visa. This is ridiculous, knowing that the program starts tomorrow, and my passport is still empty. I can’t leave, time is dropping me behind. I’m now so far away from the reality I envisioned for myself. Feels like I’m trapped, although I’m still the most liberate person I know. I was walking to the embassy this morning, to see if they could change the date of my appointment. They said over the email that the next available date isn’t until six weeks later. Isn’t that ridiculous?! The woman also said that it’s my fault if I don’t have the visa by now. You should’ve come with your documents ready, she said. I couldn’t complain how uncooperative she was, why she didn’t accept some of my documents in the first place, and that she could’ve registered my application in their system while I gathered up the papers she asked for. She could’ve told me to come back tomorrow instead of making me arrange another appointment. I think a part of me was scared of her. She works at the embassy, after all, she has the power to do almost anything at the moment.

And I’m so naive to think that these people were going to be helpful. For a split second, I thought she would feel bad about all of it, and would help me out for a change. Nope, didn’t happen. I had some other errands to run, but I was so sad and tired that I decided to just go home. Do you know how many steps I take in a single day? Walking around from one embassy to another, and then to another office again? Sixteen thousand on average, in only the first few hours of the morning. Anyway, I walked down the boulevard by the Park. I used to walk along this path a lot before when I was living in this city. Guess I’ve forgotten things, I actually had to think for a minute before I could remember how I got myself home. My friends’ home, I don’t really live anywhere anymore.

Okay, enough with the nagging, do you know what I was thinking about as I was walking by the Park?! I remembered that Bob Dylan song, which goes, I walk by the boulevard, admitting life is hard… Well, it’s true. I’ve come to this conclusion many times before, and now I know for sure this uphill won’t glide into downhill that easy. How unfair this world is treating us! The humans of this world, I’d better say, we really are mean to one another. To be honest, I find it a bit racist. I mean, if this is not racism, then what is? They don’t even let us travel freely. This is our planet Earth. Doesn’t it belong to us all?! How come some people get to go wherever they want, whenever they want. And they make videos about it, showing off all the places they’ve been, sharing their commercialized tips and tricks of being a full-time traveler. Okay, not all of them are commercialized, but I’m mad now; you get the point! I thought I was trying to do something good for this society, leaving something valuable behind. And look what happens in the end! I am one of those people who want to travel freely, only, the road is full of ups and down with deadly twists and turns. I am not the only one, I’m pretty sure, there are so many others just like me. We belong to that category where we have to waste all our time, energy, a significant amount of money, and sometimes even serious deal of emotions, just to get a piece of paper stuck in our passport with a black stamp on it. Can’t the authorities see through?! How can they refuse to cooperate? Yea, right, life is hard. And it’s not inaccurate if I say it’s a lot harder for us. We can’t have it easy, can we?! As if we’re not already loaded with serious dramas, wars, bad economy, severe depressions, low standards, unjustified societies, and on top of all, a foreign government to suck up our national resources. Now, how am I supposed to think creatively with all these?

I was speaking to dad just before I start writing to you. He believes that happiness comes from these rough moments, and that it will be all meaningless if it wasn’t for such horrible seconds in life. He thinks that I’d appreciate it better, I’d know what it’s worth. The trip would be sweeter to me than anyone else could experience. It would be a lot more joyful since I’ve paid so much to finally make it there. I hope he’s right.

31.Jul.17 – Ankara, Turkey

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