I’m tired of so many things, especially I’m tired of seeing and hearing a lot of bullshit. People who believe that I believe myself to be some God, when I think I am quite another very often.

Maybe we are all failures, in the end I don’t feel better than anyone. I know I have been drowned and shipwrecked for some time. The only thing that makes me different (and not just me) may be the way I react. Still capable of stubborn kindness, honesty, and education.

I only know that I have always been rational, kind, and that I have always seen people who took advantage of these characteristics of mine.

Is that the biggest irony of my life, of the things that have happened in this fucking period, is precisely the fact that there are too many people who believe that I am the one who took advantage / is taken advantage of.

Meanwhile, I don’t push you, I don’t slap you, I’m not going to get drunk and suck.

I do not manipulate anyone, I have no intention, unlike many, to make them feel like they are worth less, to belittle them, as well as their dreams, their cravings, their desires, their fucking human weaknesses.

That here, it seems to me that he is the only one who has these things, holy shit.

That I have continued aggression, I have stopped wanting to understand it, I have stopped wanting to be an honest man, by now I really want to repay these wickedness, doing as the others do: I don’t care.

That I am tired of always being the only one who takes the first step, who “strikes first”, tired of being the only one who extends a hand.

Why the fuck do you have to break my balls that “I do not hear”, if you never do? Why do I always have to be the one who looks like shit?

For as long as I can remember, they have always deceived me, made fun of me, and I have always been left with this immense desert of emptiness, anger, bitterness, disappointment and resentment.

And do you really think it was me who did it all? To hear the others it seems that the only one who is wrong is only one, no one is ever able to tell you the truth, they are just all capable of manipulating you, of making you feel bad, making you believe that you are the only black spot in their world of false. perfection and other bullshit.

I am left with the suffering, the pain, and the awareness that even if I try to do good, there is always someone who has to break my balls, always looking at ulterior motives, and not the genuineness and simplicity of a person who for what may have been paranoid, irrational at times, but still so much reflective…

In short, gestures of spontaneous kindness, because I have a bloody big heart.

But maybe I don’t have it anymore, because all this shit has contaminated me everywhere.

Because as long as there are such people in the world, they will continue to push away the only people in the world who were capable of loving, without any ulterior motives, and perhaps, even without reason.

But I realized that people like me, when they are spontaneous, do not ask themselves questions: they trust their heart, their instincts, sometimes even that is needed.

In life, I have already said, with anger, calmly, that we are not: “dreamers”, “thinkers”, or “rational” or “instinctive”.

I have been and am all of this together, and to think that there is only one way to live is immature and mentally limited. This is all bullshit.

Maybe I’m starting to get fed up with people.

And I have the “vague” suspicion of having been deceived and manipulated for the umpteenth time, and that they have also done so to another / other people.

And I, who am a good person, no matter how humanly I may desire a rematch, I know that I will not apply it, however, I want to continue to stay out of toxic situations.

From those who speak behind me, from those who want to insinuate themselves and have crept into the heads of those who love me.

By now I am changing so much, now I am the result, I am the consequence of the harm that was done to me and that I did too, however, I have never done it voluntarily.

Maybe I’m not better than anyone, after all these are just the delusions of a madman who describes and writes his own life.