Analysis of EXIT

Everything swam there, ran aground...

It was as if I had been left alone for good in that fatal disinfectant-smelling, stale urine-smelling hospital corridor, where the Beloved, who broke up with me because of my lack of money, my Sisyphus, gave birth to two boys one after the other. And the mental stigma wound was deep and gaping, as was the mournful silence of mutual loyalties and conspiratorial betrayals.

Two thin skeleton nurses came in and pushed the Beloved, who already had a belly the size of a barrel, into the operating room, and she complained loudly enough that she couldn't wait to finally be a more real, slimmer woman and who, like a rock, would not let out a single scream or stray sigh. heard, but epidural anesthesia is sure, which is definitely useful! The Dear One was a dreamy, exotic Angel who, with a single, expressive look at Heaven, was a lasting cure for the gloom of my shipwrecked soul.

The ominous crypt walls, weathered, splintered ceiling scared the crap out of me. And of course the low-fat, pitiful okada hospital dirt! "Please, this is not fattening here!" - Sister Ursula complained in a squealing voice. I thought I would bring her favorite broth, poppy seed soup, and Somló dumplings, may the Beloved, whose energy of soul and body be needed, give her plenty. Why couldn't I hold her tender, ashy hands , his long, artistic hands, with which he could caress and threaten at the same time?! My courage - if there was any - was tamed into cowardice.

It was clear that everything was lost in our relationship! The two little scoops Arthur's lads came out of their placenta shelters one after another, screaming and squealing, like two bell sirens one after the other, and when the real husband appeared, I purposely hid behind a gutted coffee machine, so he wouldn't see it! I faithfully hugged the two little teddy bears for a while, and although I asked a younger lady to bring my gift to the new mother, I think she did.

Later, a landline-telephone voice appeared: "I've missed you, my dear!" - she whispered in a little mouse voice, a little hoarse, because her husband was snoring a lot next to her. ,Why are you torturing? Why are you tormenting me?! - I wanted to ask, but I only answered: "I'm very proud of you. I kiss the children!" - The photo, which was received via e-mail, faithfully reflected not only the cause of the psychological changes, but the traces of a different lifestyle.

I ask you and you know that the loyalty of my word forbids you to accuse me of lying: Are you so radiantly and truly happy? Or was this just an effective trick, a manipulative cat-and-mouse game?! You know, because they must have told you that I took care of you every day of your life, and when I needed you, you didn't even remember what you promised at university!

Then everything stopped...