Easy job: Dear beloved Bulgaria

Easy job: Dear beloved Bulgaria
Easy job: Dear beloved Bulgaria

Empathy is a good thing. Hasn’t she provoked you, along with all kinds of elections and public events lately, to ask yourself: “I wonder, how would I feel if I were in Bulgaria’s place?”? Just empathy… You step into the other person’s shoes.

So how would you feel if you were in her shoes? Good, kind, beautiful, sunny and sweet Bulgaria.

I don’t know about you, but if I were her, I’d be exhausted with love. So much love! And still strong, true, intolerant of compromises and other points of view, diverse, loud, bright and extremely patriotic love.

I can see myself rubbing my temples and with trembling fingers bringing another analgin to my lips. My head is splitting from these round-the-clock, continuous and categorical explanations of love.

I am Bulgarian and everyone loves me. Both those who support the constitution and those who opponents claim are undermining it. And those who organize peace marches and others who meekly love peace without having to run in the squares in its name.

I am Bulgarian. Everyone loves me. They assure me that they have rolled up their sleeves to strengthen the Bulgarian spirit, property, people and self-awareness. As they do so, they preemptively elbow some fellow in the ribs, I suppose out of love for me, not for any other reason.

Everyone wants me to progress and blossom, but I’m being violently pulled in different directions. I thought that development was forward and upward, but it turns out that it is everywhere, very often – backward and downward. It confuses me and makes the headache worse.

All vehemently defend the rights and well-being of my citizens, chide their opponents for being against these good things, and artfully juggle the scraps of information like pattern balls.

While they pathetically explain themselves to me in love, the smell of the grill is all around, there is playful music to improve digestion. The mouth-watering picture of debauchery and patriotism is backed up by compromising stories and enthusiastic sloganeering along the lines of “Who owns the property, owns the power”, and the man with the drum is included now and then for rhythm and to emphasize the content. Like in some sweet Valentine’s Day.

Naturally, they are all driven by love for me and by inner noble motives.

They are usually well read historically. They recall some moments and obligingly forget others. And this is in the order of things, because everyone is right and his love should be very well understood by the population and accordingly he should be followed, and not his opponent in love, who in the opposite corner is also rewriting history with a similar endearing mission.

And all of them are cordial, persuasive, more objective than one another, they say the most reliable and principled things. Nothing bad. The world is diverse, and the more colorful its face, the better. Thus we are offered the magical sacrament of investigation, analysis, doubt and hesitation in search of truth. Moreover, according to an old, time-tested recipe, evil is pleasant and charming, sometimes much more attractive, sympathetic and tempting than good.

I am from Bulgaria, I have a terrible headache and the picture around me is suspiciously reminiscent of the one described by Hristo Botev almost a century and a half ago.

And I want so little. Clear vision, calmness and movement in the right direction.

That’s what I would think if I were in her shoes.

The good, kind, beautiful, sunny, sweet and much loved Bulgaria.

The article is in bulgaria

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