What I think.

I am truly sorry for everything, for every involuntary harm that I have done, for having done you think I am something that I am not, for having done actions that have made me think that I am something I do not recognize myself in.

 I don’t want to think about the past anymore, I want to get rid of many things, I want to start thinking about how to feel good, because alas, so many times, what I’m looking for and want is never there.

After all, who imposes on me this “duty” to improve myself? Is it just me who gives myself this weight, this ambition? I could really do like the others and not care, continue to be one way, never filing anything.

Since I seem to be the only jerk who wants to do it, the only jerk who apologizes, the only one who recognizes the wrong, but no one ever tells me: “Sorry, you’re right. I exaggerated”.

Maybe I’m really a big moron to want to allow all this, to become condescending to chase away the paranoia, to even stop thinking about all this.

Thinking: “It’s just a moment, it will pass. If I keep giving it rope, it will keep turning inside me. Bear. It will pass.”

It is becoming difficult to eat these bitter morsels, never being able to say what I would like, because people are sometimes heavy, especially when they get stuck.

Sometimes I really see that they cling to wanting to be right, they want this reason, they cling to it strongly.

By now, you know, I’ve learned that being right or wrong is of no use at all. Things don’t change, people don’t come back.

Besides, it’s always so subjective; everything must always be contextualized. If you think about it, you understand that everyone is right and wrong at the same time. It’s a stupid race where nobody ever wins.

In short, there is no objective reason. Only when it is said that everything belongs to both parties and not just one. It’s all on a scale.

What changes, after all? If I admit that I’m 100% wrong and say:

“Hi, I’m sorry for everything, I’m completely wrong.” The people I want to forgive me, will they? No.

Will they come back with open arms? No.

What’s the use of being right? Just to make us believe momentarily that we have an advantage over other people. Short illusion.

But I am always the jerk who takes it out in that place to continue to care for others and when you understand that they are too stubborn, he stops wanting to be heard and remains talking to himself, at least, I can listen to myself.

People, other people, everyone, are really hard to bear. And it’s really hard to bear and have patience for everything.

I would like to say: you are not the only ones to suffer. What you tell me makes me feel bad, and in the long run, makes me want to be without you.

Sometimes I run out of patience, sometimes, the burden on my heart becomes too much. I just want to be left alone.

Certain situations weigh me down and I don’t always see others worrying about how I am.

And to say that they tell me that I am a very selfish person… perhaps more than selfish I would like to see someone care for me as I care for them.

Oh yeah, I’m selfish.

In the end, I wonder what I think? When I ask myself, I understand that many of what others call “paranoia”, but in fact, they are worries, they arise precisely because I am afraid.

I care for other people, and I think about what to do to help them, to help me, to be well together.

When I argued with you, Stè (and sorry if I write half my name, but you know … I don’t think it matters anymore) I was worrying that something negative was happening and could happen. I was scared and worried.

I shouldn’t have thought about it too much, but if possible, try to put yourself in my shoes: how would you have reacted if they had told you all those things?

I didn’t want all these things, all these burdens on me, all these epithets: “selfish, paranoid, rational, irrational, maniac, stalker, rapist. Things would have gone on, no, you can’t “. I didn’t want them.

I wondered what I wanted, and you know, Ste and co? It was very simple: I just wanted to continue our transmission, our friendship, because that was really enough for me to feel good. It made me happy, happy to spend time with her, with them.

Really, I was happy even so, without expecting anything more. And that was how I wanted it to be resolved.

I started writing, because it was the only thing I had left. No friend has ever been able to help me as much as myself, as much as writing.

I worry, but I never want to hurt someone: indeed, it is precisely by worrying that I love them.

What did I want? Continue to cultivate a friendship, without pretensions. Laugh and joke together. And I still want it… even though they say you don’t deserve me. Maybe they’re right, but I don’t care.

And I am also learning that it does not matter whether you forgive or not: forgive, do not forget, but go on anyway, and continue to love, because you know that you are not capable of doing anything else.

Believe me, I was happy like that. I don’t know if someone bothers when others are happy, I am happy for others. I envy them because I would like to be too, but I’m not going to sabotage theirs. I am unbearable, you are unbearable. This is life, but we never stop loving and living. Forgive me for past, present and future mistakes, know that I will continue to make mistakes, as a human being. Maybe I’m a devil, who knows? Live happy, live in peace.


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