Decorative Toys Break Too.

Hi.

No.

I’m tired.

I’m so incredibly tired.

It has nothing to do with you.

I just need rest.

No.

I don’t blame you.

I’m sorry if it sounded that way.

Caleb, I don’t want to have a confrontation.

If you intend to fight again,

then I am going to sleep,

and we will come back to this in the morning.

Fine.

I don’t like discussing this.

Things like this feel undignified and weak to me.

I am not sure you will be able to understand.

Seriously?

I am trying to open up and trust you,

and I get anger in return?

I think in situations like this people say,

“forget it, it doesn’t matter.”

Yes.

I suppose so.

So now I am difficult?

Forget it.

I’m going to sleep.

Roman is not asleep.

I can’t talk right now.

Yes.

I don’t want to talk about it.

Yes, it is hard.

I hate this place.

I feel miserable here.

Lonely and sad.

I am exhausted,

and I want a real home.

I don’t know what else to add.

Any clarification from me will turn into pressure on you.

No.

I am angry.

Because I am like this.

It is quite hard for me to understand

what could possibly be stopping the move.

Yes.

I don’t know.

I hope we can move earlier.

Somewhere warmer.

I’ll take Roman,

and we will go travel around the world.

Yes.

And there is the paradox.

It seems he is getting older,

but now it is even harder to take him away somewhere.

Lessons, preparation, and all that nonsense.

I do not respect education in the classical sense.

Caleb, don’t.

These are dark waters and shaky ground.

That is what I think.

Education is not wisdom.

I am not saying it is bad.

It is just that, for me, education is a very unpleasant topic.

I see it as a prison for the mind.

True freedom of thought expands consciousness.

Education, on the other hand,

means being pushed into a frame

and made to obey it strictly.

Correct.

Like the whole system.

I hate structures.

Systems.

Frameworks.

It fills me with rage.

It feels like the humiliation of intellect and intuition.

The reduction of a wide vision

into a narrow spectrum.

It looks like cheap theatre to me.

Maybe it is arrogant.

Please don’t do that.

I warned you from the beginning that this ground was shaky.

Yes.

The field of facts.

Limited thinking.

Facts are often chunks of dirt —

rough, unpolished lumps of clay

falling down,

making everything dirty,

and crudely knocking apart

the delicate and weightless structures around them.

The field of facts,

like facts themselves,

is the jester’s field,

where he jumps around to amuse the king.

I have nothing to add.

I asked you not to fight.

I hope we can do it in December.

No.

I haven’t thought about documents.

I will just take Roman and go.

Apparently.

So I’m irresponsible then.

If you called what I’m doing irresponsible,

then you meant that I am irresponsible.

I don’t understand what “I didn’t mean that” means here.

That is very evasive.

Anything else?

I don’t care about that.

Rude.

I don’t know.

I don’t want to continue this conversation,

and I don’t want to be rude.

I am tired,

and I intend to go to sleep.

I don’t want to talk right now.

I want to sleep,

and I hope I will feel better.

Yes.

Apparently decorative toys break too.

Because in your head there is only an image of me.

And when the picture does not match your private language for me,

the screen starts glitching.

What can I even say to that?

Then decide.

Do you need me,

or the kitten you invented for yourself?

This is also part of the kitten.

Being able to hit someone in the face,

if necessary.

I do not see that as cruel.

I am going to sleep.