Categoria: Blank Sheet

And then… you just stop Caring.

dicembre 13th, 2022

I realize that by now I am a bit tired, I can’t find the desire to go out, to go around. By now the thought of going “for clubs” seems to me a stupid or at least silly thing, and it annoys me.

After all, we are almost forced to go there, for a social issue, because “everyone does it”. In the long run, after years of drinking I may think I did it only to find myself thinking it was never from me.

How I also got tired of committing myself, even of looking for some affection, women, loves.

You get tired of suffering, of getting busy, of searching, of “running after”. Not because you don’t want to, but you know, maybe you no longer have the energy to spend like you used to, or maybe you know that by now you only want to use those for things that are worthwhile.

And after years you know that it makes no sense to go “for clubs”, maybe not here, and not as a person without a job.

The weekend is supposed to be a time to unwind, I think. And instead it is used as the most classic of excuses to get drunk.

After all, I like to drink beer, I really appreciate the taste of some spirits, but in that case there is no need to drink many.

Maybe I’m getting old, or maybe I’ve simply seen, over the years that it’s often useless, to go out to clubs.

I’ve enjoyed myself very few times, and in any case never here in Lamezia, or almost never. Always in Bolo or with the right companies.

Those who are good for the heart, with whom you can get drunk, have fun, people with whom you feel protected, that’s it.

Those with whom you share moments in which you let yourself go, yes, like the theater for me.

I’m realizing, however, as by now I prefer my company to all the others. I’m alone, but I know how to do it very well.

Last night, since I couldn’t sleep because my mother had made the bed (which never happens, now it’s only me), I felt uncomfortable because I hadn’t made it again.

There is something in our minds, in our bodies, paths taken so many times, that we don’t even realize they are so perfect.

It seems that I tidy it up in a simple way, perhaps not entirely “tidy”, but it is the one that imposes my body, the one that knows that when it enters it it will feel good and say “perfect”.

So who cares if it’s seemingly simple, if it SEEMS like it’s done wrong, when in fact it’s the perfect way for me to feel comfortable, warm?

I understand that in no way can anyone know you better than yourself, and I have wanted to know myself for a long time.

We are friends with myself, now, the best.

If you learn to suffice yourself, and advance, you know that you can also stop talking your own business, maybe to those who won’t have so much trouble betraying you,

and if I say things to myself, without letting them “come out” I’ve noticed that the things that worry, annoy, or even small hints of crush, end much faster.

Maybe sometimes it’s the fire that feeds other things or people that is the problem; in my case anger has caused a lot of problems.

But if everything is limited, it ends soon.

And you also get tired of telling someone else how you feel, you get tired of everything, because you know that many things just hurt.

Suffering should only be shared when you can, because I’ve noticed that not many understand it and there are those who sometimes use it to weaken you.

And nothing, you get bored with everything, even touching them.

It seems that little remains, but in reality everything remains.

We are small, but for ourselves we are the universe.

Love each other more, especially those who have trouble doing it, and many women often seem to fall into this trap, of lack of self-esteem.

As I said in a few articles ago: happiness is not wanting.

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23 vs 33 (english vers.)

dicembre 9th, 2022

I talk to my 23-year-old self a lot lately; there are many similarities for many things and it is even more bizarre, because they were exactly ten years ago.

I remember how at 23 I was tired of so many things, I wanted to leave, I felt bad here, I was in pain.

The main reason was a girl at the time. With whom I had quarreled several times and with whom there was not the slightest hope of recovering any relationship.

What’s more, the real reason why I began to hate Lamezia was precisely that: the quarrels with her, even in public, and then many people everywhere came to piss me off, to make fun of, even people who weren’t purely bullies, in short.

Too many people knew too much, it was a side effect, of course, but it was one of the damages she couldn’t calculate, and neither could I, in fact…

But seriously it was really surreal, strange: even as soon as I left the house, there were people passing by on motorbikes and saying something to me.

Back then I was already starting to go out less, to argue more even with friends, it was the right time to leave, I couldn’t stand being here any longer.

I remember arguing with my aunt who had been there for years, she rightly said it was irrational (although not like that), to go away without art or part.

I got angry, I threw the phone… for what reason?

The reason was that in any case I already felt the oppression of a city in which I was feeling terrible, combined with the “desire” to stop, to stop my needs. Because at the time going to Bologna was just the need to go and live in another context.

I had to leave, I risked dying here. (Not necessarily in the physical sense, of course, but in the sense of having my personality severely killed off).

And in fact, if one remembers today’s world well, today’s reality, it is easy to remember that even today, similar things have happened, with people who told me that I had to behave “as they said”.

And I know I was wrong, I know MAYBE I really should have done as they said, but I know you can’t tell people, me, how to behave.

I suppose my problem was really having a strong personality, and that anyone who didn’t understand how I was made, didn’t understand my thoughts and feelings, wanted in some way to “deprive” me of my freedom.

Regardless of whether or not someone is in good faith, it was unbearable for me to hear things like: “it’s not good how you do it, you have to do it this way”, just because they were more “socially” acceptable ways.

Things that, of course, have contributed to making me hate this company: you only go well with certain standards, it doesn’t matter if you’re different.

I’m too sincere and natural to pretend, I tried, but then every time I can’t stand it, and I have to go back to being myself, it’s really stronger than me, even if it’s always ME the person we’re talking about.

In the end I ran away, but I remember that at the age of 23, I wanted to stay in Calabria, in reality, I went to the University of Cosenza, and I remember that I was fine…

How many things have changed.

And today, as I said yesterday, I want to go, but I’m not the same person as yesterday who simply wanted to “escape”, but to find another me that I left there, my most beautiful version, which seems to wander like a spirit through the streets of Bolo, without my body.

I can’t honestly tell you how the fuck the situation was, I can’t tell you if it was precisely an obsession, for one person.

The truth is that I wasn’t obsessed with Valentina, a person I kept thinking about for years, because I remembered it, every time I felt good in Bologna, in every moment of happiness I remembered what had been the origin of everything.

So how to say? It’s not that I remembered her because I was still in love or something with her, but to constantly remind myself of the 23-year-old me, in that year of being more lost than ever, I was no longer one with a check.

And that’s how for years I was afraid of many things, like love, or that something similar would happen again.

I was afraid to go back to Lamezia, I was afraid of suffering, of the pain caused by an environment in which in the end I never really felt like a part of it.

I feel more like the Bolognese where I lived for several years, more of feeling like Lametino, the city where I was born and raised, yes…but raised how?

I have matured more in Bolo than here, where to be honest, you all always seem to be in an impenetrable bubble, stuck in the convictions of a life that no longer exists, I scream to tell you that …

Now that I think about it, 20 is over.

The 30s started a while ago, and now there is greater awareness, but there is always the same desire to live as before, indeed, for certain things even stronger.

I can’t stand the closed-mindedness of this place, and maybe I’ll be presumptuous, but… really, I seem to be the only one who considers other points of view, alternatives, to see beyond “black and white”, and it makes me laugh, because at 28 they told me it was me doing it.

Have I really changed? Maybe I’ve always been the same. Today at 33 I still think about a person who in many ways had similarities with Valentina.

stef,

sometimes I believe that fate or God “but put it” in my path (as much as I doubt the aforementioned), to make me reappear at that myself of 23, which I had avoided thinking about. I was ashamed, I was afraid to remember it, because I thought I had only caused suffering, but…

but now, thanks to what happened I know that DESPITE APPEARANCES; in a situation, in a quarrel there is never a person who is wrong.

Since like Valentina, she behaved the same way, as too many people do by now, and I know it doesn’t just happen to me, when you can’t make yourself heard, make yourself understood.

I’m really a “hunchback”, I too found guilty even before a judgment is given: popular opinion has already condemned me, and since “the victim” is a (beautiful) woman, it’s over for “the bad ogre- rapist”.

Exactly, called in really bad ways, without my having ever done it, therefore based on nothing, on facts THAT DO NOT EXIST.

What are we talking about, after all? Who is really the victim here?

So in what sense did fate do what it “should” do? Because in the future-present I understood many things about the past.

It seems I “found” her and fell in love to (somehow) absolve the former self.

And today, loving me, basically.

As much as I find it unbearable to have been defined in ways that I am not.

(Among other things here between denunciation and denunciation, I should have done it to you for defamation, since you have so conveniently defined my person with epithets of people who commit very, VERY SERIOUS crimes. I’m not so sure that the victory would be been so obvious on your part, as you have always defined. But it is clear that it is always the “bad ogre” who loses).

Yes, I’m the bad guy today and yesterday.

I’m not saying I was wrong, nor do I want to place myself “above” something or someone.

I suppose that if someone (even if compared to the vast majority of people I’ve known in my entire life is still a very small minority, as a result), felt bad about me, I could never say I had no responsibility.

However, I have always acted, as they say, “in good faith”. I think I have touched negative points in the hearts, in the heads, in the so-called “minds” of certain people, without ever realizing it, and obviously, however much they have “TRIED” (but even here it’s funny, because instead of explaining, they accuse), a explain it to me, I know I haven’t understood, precisely because contact, rational confrontation has been denied.

That is, after all these quarrels, it’s not like I really understood the alleged or substantial harm that I have done.

As happened to the 23, even today the same thing: advice, opinions, people who had to “protect me or the other” from (in the end), the inevitable evils of life.

It was all contaminated, and well, I understood practically nothing, and I laugh, again, because thinking about it, they all seemed so convinced that they understood, and that they could teach me.

Well they failed.

And I laugh again, because I understand that no one has ever been rational, that at best I am, now, detached, no longer emotionally involved as before, to understand… what I can.

I have limits, obviously human, that don’t allow me to understand. For this we need a real confrontation and not just outrage, outbursts, or pointing fingers.

Fear is the thing that most influences our decisions, but it shouldn’t, because it only causes evil, and in fact it is never reasoned.

My fear, fear of Vale, of Stef… Fears. The things we run from, yes, but where?

The only difference is that we didn’t argue live today… and therefore I was spared a bit of disturbance from unknown people and I can get around the city “peacefully”.

I wonder if it’s a good thing, though, that we haven’t had a face-to-face confrontation, however aggressive it may have been.

It’s better that way? Or you may think that since we have phones and social networks, we have easier escape routes.

Block, “ghost”, ignore.

Are they really positive things, or… well, I’ll say it: are they cowardly things? What can you really understand only through messages, how does the other person feel?

To understand someone, you always have to look them straight in the eye, as they say in a movie: “Her eyes, Chico, never lie.”

And what I saw in the eyes is so different from what I read in the messages…

And therefore, today as then we suffer/suffered for love,

today as then, I want to leave.

Today, as then, I’m a little sorry to do it, but I have to.

Because alternatives, I don’t see any, by the way.

My mind seems to travel through time, it reminds me of the sensations of the time.

Instinctively I’m also slipping into resignation, because everything is never that simple.

What will be stronger and faster? Time or fate? Now very few things can change the situation.

In the end if destiny ever exist, it will only put me in the place, and situations that have always been mine.

I felt emotions even before living the situations, sometimes it seems you can know what will happen, because you calculate the possibilities, and not because I have the power to predict the future, in short.

Am I the same? After 10 years so many things seem to have remained the same.

23 vs. 33,

and many things have changed.
My Salvation.

dicembre 8th, 2022

Then I wonder why one has to live, work, toil? Do you live to survive? Do you live for lack of alternatives, if not that of your own death?

I want a job, for my living, yes but every time I think about how to spend money I imagine using it for something I like, which I already do.

I’m imagining moments of perfect harmony, those moments in which, after a few months of work, I could think, to Bolo, of things like: ”A little trip? A trip to Turin, perhaps, to see Juve”… or similar things.

Well, I think I could be alone, do many things alone, that’s why I was wondering if love or freedom were the most important things.

Because everything requires sacrifices, and I’m noticing that you do many things well just… alone.

Each experience has a different value in solitude or in company, but it’s nice to find yourself friends.

Now that I walk in this city, many things seem useless to me, finished.

I see the lives of others who still cling to an almost adolescent life, to cling to a wishful thinking that they can stay young forever.

You know, I also don’t like the passing of time, inevitable, I too am afraid of dying, but I never thought of not maturing, refusing to grow up, to mature,

to live the illusion of being able to live in an eternal present.

Because there is always something that I don’t like in the present, I always hope that there will be better times in the future, even if it is never obvious.

In fact I think that in many ways it will be even worse, but I really refuse the thought of remaining like a child or teenager, it almost disgusts me.

That is, one cannot sacrifice maturity for youthful appearance, and also energies. It would be perfect to do like the elves, to remain youthful in appearance but have the wisdom and maturity of older people.

However, life is not made up only of these things, in the end, ephemeral. Life is not even the job, the class, the “social position”.

I see many people around me who give importance to these things, which are now irrelevant to me.

Why should I make fun of myself, after all? Will I ever be rich? Who knows, but I will certainly never be a doctor, I will never be a lawyer, a judge.

I went my separate ways, and here I am, your honor, in short.

And who is the judge? After all, it’s just me, and there aren’t always trials, after all.

You don’t have to judge, evaluate everything, and I don’t have to have myself in the dock every time something goes wrong.

But I know several things by now, people can’t understand, except me,

that every time I daydream Bolo, for example.

Ten years ago, a 23-year-old me, a me very similar to my current self in many ways, left Lamezia, ran away, he was tired.

Today’s myself is also tired, but he is patient, waits, studies, works, but his goal is always to get away.

But I’m happy, do you know why?

Because now it’s no longer escape, fear, no. Now getting away from here would be, will be… my simple duty, to save myself.

Because here few things are good, Ying and Yang – Bologna mostly white, and the black dot… Lamezia, mostly black and the white dot.

Where the only good thing is the laboratory, the theatre…but these things don’t have to be the only good thing, they have to be icing on the cake.

Don’t be the only good part of it.

And I want to save myself, I’m afraid of what I’m becoming and would become by staying here, I want to stay away from my parents’ house, I want to be alone.

I’d rather spend money on a rental in Bologna than get to 40 with mine again.

I have to save myself, from myself, from what is hurting me, going to Bolo is not a whim, it’s a duty towards me, because by now I am the only one who can do something for my happiness, and I only know that it was be there, live another life.

Categoria: Blank Sheet

And then… you just stop Caring.

23 vs 33 (english vers.)

My Salvation.