Oct 19, 2010


Yesterday, after a long period of time, I finished a book. Not quite a book really - well, it was a graphic novel called Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi. It is a French-language autobiographical comic (translated to English, of course) by Marjane Satrapi depicting her childhood up to her early adult years in Iran during and after the Islamic revolution. It is an engrossing read and keeps you entertained and informed with tidbits of political commentary and humor sprinkled all over.
But the part that I related most to was the narrative about little Marjane's break-up with her high-school boyfriend Markus, who was found to have been cheating on her. I'll quote a little passage from the book which summarizes the way I felt and continually feel after my break-up with Vinokur.
My breakup with Markus represented more than a simple separation. I had just lost my one emotional support, the only person who cared for me, and to who I was also wholly attached.

I had no family or friends; I had counted on this relationship for everything. The world had just crumbled in front of my eyes.

“Leave me alone, please!”

Everything reminded me of Markus. This bedspread, it was his birthday present to me.

This posted, he bought for me at the Picasso show at the Museum of Modern Art.

His T-shirt. Oh, his T-shirt.

Aside from him, who else was sincerely interested in me during these four years in Vienna.

Where was my mother to stroke my hair?

Where was my grandmother to tell me that lover, I would have them by the dozen?

Where was my father to punish this boy who hurt his daughter? Where?

In this room, everything evoked Markus. I couldn’t stand it anymore.

I took my bag, my passport, the plane ticket my parents had given me to visit them at Christmas, and a little money.
Of course, I don't have close ties with my family and parents, nor do I have plane tickets to go back home -- I don't want to go back home, actually -- the life of Marjane resembles mine in a variety of aspects. The way she breaks down after her break-up, the way she considers herself to be a loser and goes into depression after having failed at being what her parents had hoped her to be, the way she isolated herself from her friends and family, and the way her first marriage breaks up -- all this represents what I am going through right now.

I think I have gotten way too emotional with this blog post already. The take home message is, folks, read the book. Or at least watch the movie.

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