It’s finally over. You will be able to stop being afraid, I am already turning away, I am looking for other people.

I have already apologized, I have already said everything I had to say, I have prayed as many times as I could.

You have to teach me how to grow up, because it is never said that in life, we can continue to be disappointed and that every time it happens, we have to react the same way.

You have to teach me how to grow, because then losing people takes on another value, another meaning, and it hurts in a different way.

I have learned, but you never stop doing anything: I realize that I continue to have defects, that perhaps I will continue to persevere throughout my life. That maybe I have been a devil since I repeated the first mistake.

Maybe you never understood the first mistake, if you repeat it afterwards, after all? Then you realize it, when you stop being superficial, like when you were younger and you didn’t care.

I laugh, inside myself, to hear the speeches of other disappointed people, especially the younger ones, this widespread presumption of having understood life.

Oh little girl, do you fucking take things for granted? Trust me, you don’t know how life works: you believe it will go one way, but you don’t know that as soon as you turn the corner, life will knock you down, without giving you the opportunity to react.

And scattered parts of you will be lost forever.

But you don’t listen to me, you think I’m just talking bullshit. You are full of the naivety typical of your age, of the twenty-year-olds who believe they still have their destiny in their hands.

There are no more alternatives and we have no choice, and perhaps we really don’t need them.

You have to teach me how to cry, you have to teach me to grow up.

You who ask me about my past, my present, sentimental issues, and I who don’t want to talk about it. I who talk about myself, with so many people, so freely I can not and will never succeed.

Inside me there is always another world.

And every time the heart in my throat, with the lump that goes down inside me, when I say that I can’t have what I want. There will be no more.

And I feel immensely sad every time I tell the truth, every time I look at this reality.

It’s really over this time, don’t worry anymore, S *.

After everything I’ve written, after all the energy I’ve invested in it, the end has come for real. Blessed are those who still struggle, those who still believe in it… oh, Marco.

And that’s okay, isn’t it? Sing, sing that it will pass…pain will pass.

I’m just listening to music, and letting the pain flow. It’s over, even for me this time.

And it is the saddest moment, this: when you stop believing in it. But that’s okay.

It is time to accept everything. After all, it may even be that things settle down just when you stop fighting.

Life is weird and bitchy, we know.

Dear life, don’t cry.

This is how you grow up, when you begin to digest what you’ve experienced, when the tears have dried and crystallized on your face.

Dear life, don’t cry.

There are no alternatives, there is no going back. It can only go on. The only hope left is that forward, the things behind, if they come back, they will do so to not make you think about them anymore. That maybe, someone will come back.

But to do that, I think you have to accept the past.

And I, I’m often afraid of knowing what all this means.

It’s over.

I’m scared, but I’ll let you hold your hand anyway, because it’s that damned moment in life, to become a man.

.

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