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i think my fandom friends are the people i feel the closest connection to.
at the same time, my fandom friends will never know the true me.
i have been to an english speaking country once in my life. it was one of my favourite times ever; not only did i see hamilton live, but the cashier in sainsbury's called me 'darling' and let me pay with only the change i had for the ice cream i was buying. i think it cost 23p more than i had; she just winked at me and told me not to worry.
that was 8 years ago. and since then, i haven't been in an environment where i would have to use only english to communicate.
i love english. it made its way into my brain effortlessly; my english teacher was perpetually mad at me for not learning the stories he was assigning us. we had to learn these little stories called 'shaggy dog english'; they had the most englishly dry humour possible and were absolutely wonderful. my memory is very good, so it took me two readings before i knew what the stories sounded like, and was able to tell them from memory.
i don't like to speak in english. there is something ugly and humbling when hearing my accent slip through the words i say. it's embarrassing to forget a word, and it's so awkward to not be understood immediately and having to repeat myself, or worse, change the wording of things. talking in english has this additional layer of awkwardness embedded in it, which makes my autistic self terrified to say anything.
at the same time, i know i should be proud of my capabilities. i write prose in another language. what you're reading right now is not merely a translation—it's the real stream of consciousness, it's the exact way the words form in my brain. i think in another language which is completely foreign to me. nobody in my family understands english. nobody in my family understands the english part of me.
but you don't understand me as well, not fully.
there is a big portion of my thoughts that will stay hidden from almost everyone reading this. you will not get my humour. you will not understand the Polish that i have within me. i feel weird about that. i feel weird about the fact that some of the things vital to my culture i will not be able to explain. it's strange to have such a big part of yourself hidden from the people you feel the closest to.
it gains another sort of depth after studying translation. spending hours reading the essays that come to the same conclusion: there are some cultural obstacles that language and translation will not be able to carry through. you can be close, but it will never be the same. you can read what i wrote, but you will never know what i had in mind for certain. it's a depressing thought.
lately, i've been feeling very lonely. and the fact that there are two halves of me that are hidden behind two different languages makes me want to scream.
i just want to be understood. i just want to not be lonely anymore.
and i can't even find the right words to express it.
at the same time, my fandom friends will never know the true me.
i have been to an english speaking country once in my life. it was one of my favourite times ever; not only did i see hamilton live, but the cashier in sainsbury's called me 'darling' and let me pay with only the change i had for the ice cream i was buying. i think it cost 23p more than i had; she just winked at me and told me not to worry.
that was 8 years ago. and since then, i haven't been in an environment where i would have to use only english to communicate.
i love english. it made its way into my brain effortlessly; my english teacher was perpetually mad at me for not learning the stories he was assigning us. we had to learn these little stories called 'shaggy dog english'; they had the most englishly dry humour possible and were absolutely wonderful. my memory is very good, so it took me two readings before i knew what the stories sounded like, and was able to tell them from memory.
i don't like to speak in english. there is something ugly and humbling when hearing my accent slip through the words i say. it's embarrassing to forget a word, and it's so awkward to not be understood immediately and having to repeat myself, or worse, change the wording of things. talking in english has this additional layer of awkwardness embedded in it, which makes my autistic self terrified to say anything.
at the same time, i know i should be proud of my capabilities. i write prose in another language. what you're reading right now is not merely a translation—it's the real stream of consciousness, it's the exact way the words form in my brain. i think in another language which is completely foreign to me. nobody in my family understands english. nobody in my family understands the english part of me.
but you don't understand me as well, not fully.
there is a big portion of my thoughts that will stay hidden from almost everyone reading this. you will not get my humour. you will not understand the Polish that i have within me. i feel weird about that. i feel weird about the fact that some of the things vital to my culture i will not be able to explain. it's strange to have such a big part of yourself hidden from the people you feel the closest to.
it gains another sort of depth after studying translation. spending hours reading the essays that come to the same conclusion: there are some cultural obstacles that language and translation will not be able to carry through. you can be close, but it will never be the same. you can read what i wrote, but you will never know what i had in mind for certain. it's a depressing thought.
lately, i've been feeling very lonely. and the fact that there are two halves of me that are hidden behind two different languages makes me want to scream.
i just want to be understood. i just want to not be lonely anymore.
and i can't even find the right words to express it.
