It is definitely the year in which many things have collapsed: beliefs, faith, the desire to believe, to get busy …
Now there is nothing but enormous tiredness. It always makes me sleepy, that there is less and less desire to go out of bed.
You always listen to the usual stories, and I meet those who are always hungry to know mine, even if they want to deny it. People here are hungry for stories, they want to hear their own told, as if they enjoy having someone behind their backs.
As if to say, more and more, going forward, I realize the extreme falsity, and I stay close to those who always give me the same plate of realism.
And this is how you get tired: when you are sure that you have exhausted all your energy, and often, you have nothing left.
Nothing, except… the famous story of “having learned” from mistakes. You’re tired of those too, after all.
In short, we are placed on a road of stories that are all the same, which can have no other effect than staying in bed.
After all, it will also be true that “failure is the key to success”, but… at some point you get tired of failing.
So tired of trying, never succeeding,
thinking that every experience is useful … yes, but then what?
It seems that I have almost nothing else to say, that the “period” that I thought lasted a certain amount, is instead something more than a “period” … that many people live or have experienced things similar to mine, and this, it doesn’t make me happier, but sadder.
Perhaps I would prefer to feel more “alone”, rather than knowing that there are people who have been … “transformed”, by this world, by these problems …
And they are all tired.
When we go out for a coffee, and we have a laugh, it seems that for a few moments, we really manage to keep out of ourselves, what weighs on us.
The more time passes, the heavier everything weighs, and it makes us feel tired to hold everything up.
Faith is heavy, it is just a matter of “moving forward”, and often, we also feel the weight of those who do not understand us, and we know that we cannot waste too much time trying, in vain, to repair everything.
That ships sink, and that, often, we are just survivors.
And laughter takes on a greater value, like everything else: no longer a joke between kids, but the value of being able to do it, despite all the difficulties.
We no longer make fun of anyone, because we too have been made fun of, and we understand what it means: just as we have done it too, sometimes: even those who are “pushed aside”, push someone aside.
After all, it is not possible to always be correct: it would be like being perfect. Impossible.
It all seems… irrecoverable.
We love each other, we tolerate each other, sometimes we accept the anger of others: perhaps we are deluded, sometimes, still, that we can have some friendship or relationship without “problems”. Still, something that runs smoothly is exactly what we’re missing.
And, just as I can feel tired talking about certain things, despite the provocations, so I feel tired of calling, of making myself heard, without ever happening on the other side.
As if other people have the sole intention of judging you if you stop acting one way. They are there, always staring at me, watching how I react to me, they all feel a little pain, after all.
And what do I know? In this year and a half I have been lost for a while: it is no longer me.
And I, I’m tired of being and doing anything but myself.
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