Life and death, part two

[Bassim]

Would you please correct the second part of my text?

My dream of writing in Swedish came to an abrupt end. Hundreds of novels I read to improve my vocabulary were to no use whatsoever. All those sentences crafted by the distinguished writers from which I picked out for me unknown words and phrases and wrote down in my notebooks had become a blur. I couldn’t remember the titles of novels any longer, let alone their plots. I looked at the pile of notebooks on my table and couldn’t believe they belonged to me. I took a one, leafed through it, and surely, I recognized my handwriting, but I couldn’t recall I ever wrote those words down. At that moment, it dawned on me my folly. I had nothing to write about because I was as empty as an open grave.

Not long after that, I went to my college class as usual. We were students from different countries mixed with Swedes. We learnt a few subject at a high school level, which would give us the entrance to university. With my knowledge of Swedish and my previous education from Bosnia, I had no difficulty to follow the lessons. I was eager to do the tests, get all the papers I needed, and go to university, where I would thrive and flourish like a plant in a fertile soil. Thousands of beautiful students from the whole country, one more beautiful than the other, waited for me and my hugs and kisses. I would seduce and charm them, and before they would understand what was going on, they would lie in my bed and moan in ecstasy. I would spend four years learning and having fun at the same time, and then the whole Sweden would stand before me like a platter brimming with specialities. I could pick whatever I wanted from this divine meal and then spend the coming years working hard like the natives do and enjoying weekends by drinking myself into oblivion.

In the middle of the Swedish lesson, I got up and said to my teacher I didn’t feel well and had to go home.
Before I left, she asked, “You’ll surely be back tomorrow?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”
“Come back when you feel well,” she said.

I came outside into a cold, grey November day, knowing I was never going to come back. I was finished with my education; I was finished with Sweden and its inhabitants. I walked the street the town I hated; I passed by the people with whom I had nothing in common. I was in the country where conformity is instilled in children at an early age, and where they are told never to complain. I had met such sort of people in my homeland, and I despised them and avoided their company. Unfortunately, they now surrounded me, and they held my fate in their hands. My tragedy did not begin with the war but with my decision to search refuge with people whose character is the opposite of mine. I am fire; they are ice, I am a storm; they are a breeze. I am a scream; they are a whisper. I am a wild river; they are a placed lake.

My impotence is eating me inside, and the only thing I can do was passively watch my suffering as if I am watching a drama without a beginning or an end. For this kind of illness, there is no cure; medicine and therapies are useless. I have no one to turn for help and no one to ask for advice, not because there are no kind people willing to help, but because my problems are beyond this world.

I walked through the streets without glancing at the well-stocked and colourful shops beckoning passersby to enter and part with their hard-earned money. I didn’t see silent faces walking by me, which usually showed no signs of emotion. I didn’t look at the groups of students laughing and joking with one another, unaware of the traps the life was laying for them. I dodged files of children from daycares, all dressed in the same reflective vests, all taught to behave and think in the same way. I ignored the man handing out a political party’s leaflets, promising more jobs and happier life for everyone. I wished I stopped and told him how I hated the society his party was promoting, but I knew he was brainwashed just as millions of others and my words would not change his mind.

I came to the bridge and stood in its middle, looking down at the fast flowing river, swollen from autumn rains. Behind me, cars and bikes moved in a constant stream. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry. They whipped themselves with invisible whips and pressed on because they all needed money. They had some sorts of loans they had to pay back. They wanted to buy more expensive gadgets, move to larger flats, drive faster cars, watch HD TV, travel to faraway places, and fly from their boredom and themselves. As I stared at the foaming, powerful ways, I heard the voice in my head, “Go, jump! End this suffering!” Another voice said, “You can’t kill yourself. You’re already dead. Dead don’t die twice.” I looked up and gazed at the river running to the south. I imagined making a small raft and then letting the waves carry me to freedom, over the sea to the countries where people still could think freely without the government telling them how they should think and behave. I knew I was doomed to silence, loneliness and isolation, but I was not going to suffer like people in a similar situation because the dead don’t suffer any more.
TO BE CONTINUED

 

[Tarheel]

We'll skip the first sentence (It's good.) For the second sentence, say:

The hundreds of novels I had read to improve my vocabulary were of no use whatsoever.

And:

All those sentences crafted by distinguished writers from which I had picked out words and phrases to write down in my notebooks had become a blur.

 

[Tarheel]

Next sentences. Say:

I took one, leafed through it and recognized my handwriting, but I couldn't remember writing those words.

(You can also use "recall" there as you did.)

And:

At that moment it dawned on me what my folly was. I had nothing to write about because I was as empty as an open grave.

 

[Tarheel]

Second paragraph. Third sentence. Say:

We learnt a few subjects at a high school level, which would give us entrance to university.

And:

With my knowledge of Swedish and my previous education in Bosnia, I had no difficulty in following the lessons.

Or:

I had no trouble following the lessons.

 

[Tarheel]

Next sentence. Say:

...and then the whole of Sweden would stand before me....

Next paragraph. Say:

In the middle of the Swedish lesson I told my teacher I didn't feel well and had to go home.

And:

I went outside into a cold, gray November day knowing I was never going to go back.

 

[Tarheel]

Next sentences. Say:

I walked the street in the town I hated.... I was in a country where conformity is instilled in children at an early age, and where they are told to never complain. I had met such people in my homeland, and I despised them and avoided their company.

 

[Charlie Bernstein]

. . . the only thing I can do was passively watch my suffering as if I were watching a drama . . . .

Even better: . . . as if it were a drama . . . .

 

[Tarheel]

Say:

I am a wild river; they are a placid lake.

Back to past tense!

 

[Tarheel]

Next sentence. Perhaps:

My impotence was eating me up inside, and the only thing I could do was passively watch my suffering as if watching a drama without beginning or end.

Or:

...passively watch my suffering as if an outside observer without any feelings about the matter.

And:

I had no one to turn to for help...

...those kinds of problems are beyond this world.

 

[Tarheel]

Next sentence(s). Perhaps:

I didn't look at the groups of students laughing and joking with one another, unaware of the traps life was laying for them.

Or:

the traps life had in store for them.

 

[Tarheel]

Next sentences. Say:

I ignored the man handing out a political party's leaflets, promising more jobs and a happier life for everyone. I wished I had stopped and told him how I hated the society his party was promoting....

 

[Tarheel]

Next sentences. Perhaps:

The dead don't die twice.

And:

I imagined making a small raft and letting the waves carry me to freedom to countries where people still think freely without the government telling them what to think and how to behave.