I tried explaining with the lump in my throat. I tell her I am in pain, I tell her about my mom‘s cancer, and I explain I had the surgery for this exact same issue. She smiles, with her icy, hollow, blue eyes that are very unkind.
She tells me “I don’t speak English.“ And ironically, she sounds fluent in this one sentence. But let’s not assume things, she probably has just practiced saying this one sentence.
I say “das ist Notfall“* I’m sure I am way off on what it actually is. At best, it’s going to be either an “ein/eine“ scenario. I feel humiliated, and the sharp pain in my left ovary is certainly not helping. She shakes her head again and unkind, polite, fake smile appears again: “she doesn’t understand.” And why would she?
I am an outlander, occupying space, wasting oxygen that I do not deserve, bearing a pain I probably purposefully caused, and now I am spending time that doesn’t even belong to me.
The time I spend here is an immigrant has been transforming me. I have turned into a different entity I did not know I was capable of being. Hell, I didn’t even know such entity existed. As a person who was good with literature and communication, language was always my best friend, and more so, my bitch. I could do things with it, tell stories, create comedy, make people feel things they were not supposed to feel. I was the master and language was always a very loyal servant.
It was easy to learn as a kid, to play with it, not only with Farsi, but also English. I just recalled a few days ago, out of despair, as I was doing my A.1 German homework, that I used to love my English courses, because I felt I was better at it than most of the class. Now, in this foreign land, language has turned into my biggest enemy. That flexible piece of wet clay is now a mountain of metal, and I can’t shape it anymore. I feel so horrible and anxious about it that I cannot even find a tiny spark of desire to strive for it, already embracing the thought that I forever will be an alien on this planet, and watch as this gigantic metal mountain separate me from anything and everything I want and need.
I woke up from a recently recurring dream, that people are speaking to me and I do not understand a word. I try to communicate with the same language, I think I know it, but what comes out is nonsense in gibberish. This void created between me and my surroundings is something I cannot accept, and cannot digest. Constantly furious at the world that is unfair, furious at myself for not being smart enough, and at the language, my nemesis, my cruel and cold lover, my Judas.
*This is emergency.