Slo:

Moje bivanje na Malti ni popolno. V salonu nisem vedno nasmejana, včasih zavijam z očmi in tarnam, včasih se hecajo z mano, pa me potre, čeprav mi je po navadi vseeno. V stanovanju mi gredo kakšne stvari na živce, včasih mi zmanjka nogavic in se tolčem po glavi; “zakaj nisem včeraj oprala cunj?” Včasih pozabim soliti makarone, pa se zopet tolčem po glavi. Včasih pa me samo nekdo malo bolj po strani pogleda, pa že jokam v sebi.

Pridejo dnevi, ko mi je muka vstati, se obleči in iti v salon… Pridejo dnevi, ko nebi nič jedla in pridejo dnevi, ko bi kar naprej. Pridejo dnevi, ko v salonu le pripravljam kavice in pridejo dnevi, ko v petih urah ne pridem do vode.

Pridejo dnevi, ko pogrešam mami in njene objeme, ko pogrešam prijatelje in pogovore o čemerkoli. Pridejo dnevi, ko vse kar potrebujem, je prava oseba, ki bi me objela, poljubila na čelo in mi povedala, da me ima rada.

Malta ni popolna.

Ljudje niso popolni.

Jaz nisem popolna.

To kar doživljam tukaj ni pravljica in nikakor ni popolno.

Pa vendar, dnevi pridejo in gredo. Kar želim povedati je to, da življenje drugih oseb prav tako ni najlepše in najboljše, da tudi drugi ljudje tarnajo in jokajo. Hočem povedati, da tudi če nekdo prikazuje popolnost, temu ni tako. Kar res šteje, je to, ali je kljub tej nepopolnosti življenje lepo. Ali te ljudje sprejemajo, te cenijo in se od tebe učijo in ti od njih. Da te potolažijo, ko ti je hudo, da opazijo tvoje razpoloženje in ti dajo vedeti, da nisi sam.

Hvala Bogu to tukaj dobim in sprejemam.

Rada imam Malto. Pa ne ker bi bila popolnoma popolna, pač pa zato, ker je kljub svoji nepopolnosti popolna zame.

Eng:

My stay in Malta isn’t perfect. I’m not always smiling in the salon, sometimes I’m rolling eyes and complaining, sometimes they are making fun of me, which puts me down, even though I’m fine with it usually. In the flat, there are things that annoy me, sometimes I run out of socks and I’m slapping myself “why didn’t I wash my clothes yesterday?” Sometimes I forget to put salt in the pasta, and again I’m slapping myself. And sometimes, all it takes is someone looking at me differently and I’m already crying inside.

There come days that I dread getting up, getting dressed and going to the salon… There come days that I don’t want to eat anything and days when all I want to do is eat. There come days when the only thing I do in the salon is making coffees and there are days, when I can’t even get a glass of water in five hours.

There are days when I miss my mum and her hugs, when I miss my friends and the conversations about basically anything. There come days when all I need is the right person, who would hug me, kiss me on my forehead and tell me they love me.

Malta isn’t perfect.

People aren’t perfect.

I ain’t perfect.

What I’m experiencing here ain’t no fairytale and in any way isn’t perfect.

Anyway, days come and go. What I would like to say is, other people’s life ain’t all beautiful and perfect, other people also complain and cry. What I want to say that even if somebody wants to portray their life as perfect, it ain’t like that. What really counts is that life is beautiful even if it’s imperfect. What counts is that people accept you, cherish you and want to learn from you as you from them. That they comfort you, when you feel bad, they notice the change of your mood and let you know you are not alone.

Thank God, this is what I get and accept here.

I love Malta. Not because it is perfect here, but because it is perfect for me with all it’s imperfections.