I am left behind, I am a man of other times, who still believes he can do many things.
Someone told me, on that radio show, when I said that one of my dreams was to find love in my life, he laughed at me, saying: “Do you still believe it?”
As if the principles we believe in are things to be ridiculed, as if these things are utopias.
I believe I have remained one of the few or the only ones still capable of loving.
I see this increasingly degenerate present, a future oriented towards degradation, where people who seem all the same to me dominate, clones of clones, copies of copies.
It seems to me that I have been catapulted into a future that is already over, into a battlefield where I am one of the few survivors, they are all dead, even if they think they live.
I am like Captain America, a man who still lives today, but had grown up with outdated ideas.
Yet it was these ideas that made him a hero, not a clown.
The more I see these things, the less desire to live comes to me.
As if the future we are living, that we had to live, was just a wishful thinking. The only ones who have lived like that are my parents, or ours.
I should throw away this education, this energy, this honesty. The way that I believed the most “right” to live?
To do what, exactly? To give a damn and pretend to live, posting stories on Instagram, in some fake luxury party, showing that I’m “enjoying my life”? And how could I if, for me, the life to be enjoyed would be precisely with the things in which no one believes anymore?
I don’t know, here, I feel like Captain America, fighting Thanos, these wars, these fights against someone stronger.
The problem is that here I don’t see the Avengers coming to give me a hand: we are in one of the negative results predicted by Dr. Strange.
I would like to say that I can still fight, “I can do this All day”, but the truth is that I feel more and more crushed, I feel less and less desire to do things, less and less optimism.
Every time I did something, I felt something inside me, which made me continue, now … I don’t know, I feel that I could give up everything at any moment, I’m afraid that everything will disappoint me once again.
This desire to fight, who does it come from? Maybe I should be less honest, take shortcuts? Stop trying so hard, if a bad word is enough, to break down any relationship? All it takes is an envious person who poisons the minds of others, everything disappears.
I end up believing it too, in the end.
And I, I’m more and more tired of all these bitches that I don’t believe in, at the same time, I feel more and more alone in this war, fewer friends, more friends to fight, I feel slower and slower, yet I never give up, I do not want to.
I mean, many of those things I’ve always done out of passion seem like a stretch to me. I feel like I’m being made fun of, and so I feel less and less wanting to get busy.
I think I do it for myself, but the truth is that this too gets tainted by others.
I wanted to live a last year here, “clean up” my karma, but there is nothing here that I go even a minimum of how I want.
You can not create real bonds with those who do things with me, here it is all false.
And I hate it.
False love that they have to flaunt on social media, because if they don’t show those things, it would be as if they didn’t live it.
I will probably really finish what I started, but never out of friendship, affection, out of “seeking attention”, but for me. trying to save me, to be my Captain America.
And if it is possible, one day, to truly experience these things that are now dying out, such as love, friendship … and it would be even more epic if it happened exactly with those people who did not believe in it,
even if, I just need one.
I am one who survives, who carries these things forward, and who hopes to win in the end.
Of course, it would be much better if all these bad luck ended.
I see my friend, at least he has started talking to that person again, he goes out there, everything is fine for him … I envy him, I admit.
I had prayed, asked God, to help them, a few months ago, and it happened.
Today, however, I get angry with him, and ask: “Why him yes, and me not? What’s so much worse? Can I have a little happiness? Or something that makes me feel good anyway? At least give me my heart back, I want to feel something new.
Help me like you helped him!
My heart took it, she hasn’t returned it yet, it was I who gave it to her …
Now I would like to hear something different, from all this congealed hatred, without the possibility of experiencing something else …
Help me please.”
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