There is a Swedish word, one that perfectly encompasses how I have felt today. One that perfectly describes how it feels to be in my situation. With parents harassing the house I live in, continuing their arachnid manipulation ploy to get me back into submission and abuse. With a stomachache coupled with a headache that make me feel like I might pass out on this keyboard. And with a sick mind as well. Not in the mentally ill sense (though that too) but in the “these next 220 days might be for absolutely nothing” way.
Fy is a magical word. We don’t have it in English, the closest I can think of is “yuck!” but even that doesn’t have the same meaning. And even if it did, it in no way has the same intensity.
“Yuck,” is the word you use when you find out that your chocolate chip cookie is actually a raisin cookie. “Fy” is the word you use when it’s 10 PM, you’ve been at your stressful job all day without a break to eat. You’ve been savoring the cookie since 6PM, you’re finally home, you take the cookie out of the fridge, bite into it, and pull away in horror as you realize you’ve just bit into a raisin.
Fy is a special word. It’s usually coupled with “fan” which is kind of like saying “fuck.” Fan is the word you use when someone cheated on you with someone who was cheating on them with someone’s mother. Fan is the word you use when your elderly grandmother confesses to you on your birthday that she wants to commit suicide because life isn’t worth living anymore. Oh yeah, and “fan” is also the word you use when she was the only one to show up at your party.
And right about now, broke as “skit,” with a family that will not stop harassing me or the people I live with… Right about now, waiting for at least 220 more days for a visa application to be with the man I love, waiting for so long for a visa that could possibly get rejected… And right about now, knowing that my chances of seeing him again at all for at least 220 more days are laughably slim… Right about now,