Persona Page #4

frightened of your body swelling up.

But you played the role. The role

of a happy, young, expectant mother.

Everyone said, lsn't she beautiful?

She's never been so beautiful

Meanwhile you tried to abort the foetus

several times.

But you failed.

When you saw it was irreversible,

you started to hate the baby.

And you wished it would be stillborn.

You wished the baby would be dead.

You wished for a dead baby.

It was a difficult and long delivery.

You were in agony for days. Finally

the baby was delivered with forceps.

You looked with disgust and terror

at your squealing baby and whispered:

Can't you die soon? Can't you die?

But he survived.

The boy screamed day and night.

And you hated him. You were scared,

you had a bad conscience.

Finally the boy was taken care of

by relatives and a nanny.

You could get up from your sickbed

and return to the theatre.

But the suffering wasn't over.

The boy was gripped by a massive

and unfathomable love for his mother.

You defend yourself.

You defend yourself in despair.

You feel you can't return it.

So you try, and you try...

But there are only cruel and clumsy

meetings between you.

You can't do it.

You're cold and indifferent.

He looks at you.

He loves you and he's so gentle.

You want to hit him

because he doesn't leave you alone.

You think he's disgusting

with his thick mouth and ugly body.

His moist and pleading eyes.

He's disgusting and you're scared.

What are you hiding

under your hand? Let me see.

It's the photo of your little boy.

The one you tore up.

We must talk about it.

Tell me about it, Elisabet.

Then I will.

It was one night at a party,

isn't that right?

It got late and quite rowdy.

Towards morning

someone in the group said:

Elisabet, you virtually have it all in

your armoury as a woman and artist

But you lack motherliness

You laughed

because you thought it sounded silly.

But after a while you noticed

you thought about what he'd said.

You became more and more worried.

You let your husband impregnate you.

You wanted to be a mother.

When you realized it was definite,

you became frightened.

Frightened of responsibility, of being

tied down, of leaving the theatre.

Frightened of pain, of dying,

frightened of your body swelling up.

But you played the role. The role

of a happy, young, expectant mother.

Everyone said, lsn't she beautiful?

She's never been so beautiful

Meanwhile you tried to abort the foetus

several times.

But you failed.

When you saw it was irreversible...

...you started to hate the baby.

And you wished it would be stillborn.

You wished the baby would be dead.

You wished for a dead baby.

The delivery was difficult and long.

You were in agony for days. Finally

the baby was delivered with forceps.

You looked with disgust and terror

at your squealing baby and whispered:

Can't you die soon? Can't you die?

The boy screamed day and night.

And you hated him.

You were scared,

you had a bad conscience.

Finally the boy was taken care of

by relatives and a nanny.

You could get up from your sickbed

and return to the theatre.

But the suffering wasn't over.

The boy was gripped by a massive

and unfathomable love for his mother.

You defend yourself in despair.

You feel you can't return it.

So you try, and you try...

But there are only cruel and clumsy

meetings between you.

You can't do it.

You're cold and indifferent.

He looks at you.

He loves you and he's so gentle.

You want to hit him

because he doesn't leave you alone.

You think he's disgusting

with his thick mouth and ugly body.

His moist and pleading eyes.

He's disgusting and you're scared.

No!

I'm not like you. I don't feel like you.

I'm Sister Alma,

I'm just here to help you.

I'm not Elisabet Vogler.

You are Elisabet Vogler.

I would like to have...

I love...

I haven't...

I've learnt quite a lot.

We'll see how long I hold out.

I'll never be like you, never.

I change all the time.

You can do what you like,

you won't get to me anyhow.

Saying doesn't help.

Cut a candle.

A kind of otherness.

Not now, no. No, no.

Warning and out of time.

Unforeseen.

When it was supposed to occur,

it didn't occur and so failure.

Yourself where you are.

But I should do it.

Not inwards, no...

Say collect and advise others...

The disconsolate, perhaps...

Take, yes... but what is closest...?

What's it called...? No, no, no...

Us, we, me, I...

Many words and such nausea...

Incomprehensible pain. The throw...

Try and listen to me now.

Repeat after me.

Nothing...

Nothing. No, nothing...

Nothing.

That's it. That's good.

That's how it should be.

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