I do not even know what the fuck to write, sometimes.

I understand that I have been made fun of, who knows how long. From the first moment I thought I was feeling an emotion, everyone was always ready to block me, to tell me how to live my life.

Now my brain that does not think too much as before, at random (or apparently such) moments, comes to unexpected conclusions.

It seems that it all happened suddenly, but in reality who knows how long you talked about it, who knows how much you knew … after all I should have noticed it, I should have noticed the signals, of certain words, but no, I always had to think that there was of good faith, do not think badly …

And perhaps the problem was precisely the excess of zeal, excess of “wanting to help me” at all costs, to have damaged the structure, the relationships, due to too many infiltrations into the vessel, which then broke.

Instead of letting myself live and “make a mistake” (I’m very good at it myself …) because the best I could have done would be a friendship.

And instead there are those who have long wanted the relationship not even exist, who wanted it to be destroyed, all who demanded of me, that I did not hear, that I did not think about it, that I did not talk about it, to put the gag on me, obtaining as a result the opposite, making me angrier and angrier.

Because it is not trying to contain someone in a prison that makes him stop committing the “crime”, on the contrary, by now I understand it, you give him even more desire to do it, especially if he does not deserve it, if he is innocent.

I didn’t have much of a choice.

And the thing that pissed me off the most was not the refusal, but this wanting to impose my point of view, trying to get inside my head, psychoanalyze myself, give an interpretation of your own to my every thought and every action, giving to me to blame for it all, leading me to think that I am truly something to hate, a monster, someone who wouldn’t have so much trouble engaging in physical, sexual or whatever violence.

When I meet you, and you look at me, tell me, were you afraid I would do something to you? To your friend? Of course not, and you should know, we weren’t complete strangers. Two years of contacts, not a month.

And what would you like to get from that defiant look? Here as if you couldn’t wait for me to really give in to my anger, and hurt you.

Too bad that the anger you mean has long since run out, has congealed somewhere inside of me, and has engulfed us all.

Almost as if attacking you would give you some satisfaction, and you could have screamed:

–              Have you seen? He’s just as violent as I SAID!

And I would have given you an excuse to report me seriously.

Too bad for you who are much more intelligent than you think, I have only sinned with gross naivety.

But the thing that pisses me off isn’t this, it wasn’t this, no.

The worst thing is that I had your voices in my head for a year and a half, which I chased away in the end. Judgments, poison, thoughts of others, all who told me: “the truth”.

About me, about my thoughts, feelings, and giving each of them a name that you have decided. Let’s make a gift, I’m crazy, it wasn’t to show affection, absolutely, too weird, was it?

Shall I take a ride in the park? Clearly it is to be a “stalker”, not because I wanted to, and if you were there too, sorry to say but it was a coincidence, I am not god who possesses the gift of omniscience.

And I don’t want to attract attention, I don’t want anything you think. I’m clearly not that crazy, no.

I’m looking for the truth, and the freedom, the cure,

and that is why as I write these things, I have no regrets, because in any case they are words written by those who have nothing more to lose.

More than being betrayed, the thing that pissed me off is that you really did what you wanted with my thoughts, feelings, and I let you do it and I agreed with you, lying, because I cared about it. relationships.

I have been enormously wrong, but not for others, for me.

The same person I write for, the same person I continue for, the same person I work so hard for.

I have to thank this dark period. Because it gave me the strongest pain, the doubt, the greatest fear, not so much for not being reciprocated, but for everything I wrote above and for the extremely negative effect it had on me, the words that I they have hurt and have sparked many doubts in me.

I was afraid of being as they said …

But I know I wasn’t.

Thanks to these doubts, constantly asking myself: << why did I have this effect? Why are these things happening? In the end, who can I really trust? >>

And all the things you said to me… the greatest gift came after the greatest question: << Who am I? >>

And I started talking to myself again, which I have always done, but a little more, to go out, to get to know me, and finally, to love me.

And to distinguish who is a true friend, like the ones I have now, that push me to be a better person,  they bring out the best out of me, without judgments and fearing they want to help me, but then they just want me to be in another way, never being able to accept myself.

And none of you had ever been able to do it before. I believe it is the main task of any friend.

Rather than judging me and trying to control me… and yes, these were toxic friendships.

Which I thank, for the greatest gift they could give me.

I wish them all the same good that I love them …

And to everyone, the same good, who helped me to live.

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