felébredt

My dearest,

you know the sadness you sometimes wake up with. That sadness which wraps you like a shroud and doesn’t allow you to see beyond yourself. Today is one of those days. You would only like to stay alone even if, probably, being with other people, is the best thing to shake the sadness off yourself.

Life goes on, time goes by relentlessly and you live or, better to say, you look at the life passing by, without having the courage to change yourself. I am annoyed, I am fed up with not having the courage to change. In these days everything shuts, even the desire of crying is blocked, locked inside, and you would only wish to sleep, but to sleep is not enough, it is never enough! You would wish to push away the people who love you and stay alone, sometimes their love chokes you. The absolute loneliness is what you want, almost like you were ashamed to live and you would like to be invisible, a ghost lurking in the world of the living beings. This is what you see if you stop and try to look at what is beyond the shroud that wraps you up. You feel a powerful force inside your chest that would will to come out but it doesn’t and, little by little, wears you out. I remember that summer night on the wharf, sipping our red wine. In that exact moment I realized that you too, sometimes, feel the same. It is difficult to get rid of that powerful force, maybe, only a mother who hugs you could be able to do it, when you are still a child, but now that mother is not here anymore. She is not here anymore for us grown-ups who have to live our lives as adults.

Letting ourselves being helped by the people who love us could help,somehow, but that force which strangles us prevents us from doing so. I know what I should do and yet I am not able to do it. I wish I could cry. I cannot. When I was a child I used to cry a lot and crying was so restorative, so useful. I remember myself locked inside the bathroom, hours after hours, or at night under the sheets before falling asleep. Somehow I very much liked to cry. I liked the sensation I used to feel after crying. It was like having rest after a hard physical work. I felt empty of anguish, somehow more serene and quiet, sort of a virtual mother who cradled me, even if I was alone, actually. In these days I would like to cry for the same reason, to create a hole in the shroud which tightens me up like a straightjacket. I would like to scream and I cannot, I would like to break everything and I cannot, I would like to tell the world: “let me do whatever I want!”. What do I want? To say “I want to feel good” it is not enough. I know that it is me who has to lead my own life but I do not know how.

Sometimes listening to the others is a good thing because they know what does good to you. They will tell you the same things you yourself would tell a dear friend you love, and yet you don’t follow their advice.

I’m about to blow up, more and more this ugly force is screaming inside myself, like a monster who wants to tear me apart, a devil with red eyes spitting fire, who scratches your own flesh and drinks your own blood. Silence, maybe the silence makes me understand what is happening these days. If only I could have a little silence like right now, to vomit all that I have got inside. But nobody is listening.

Can writing be like that easing weeping? Not anymore, not now. When you think about happy people you feel envy, and pain at the same time. Pain, because you know that nothing was given them by chance. We were not born happy, we become happy. Happy people have built their own happiness. Enjoying a sunset, enjoying nature, enjoying the silence reading a book, is a very simple thing that can give happiness. Maybe in the past, yes maybe, I felt that happiness but for ages it hasn’t happened anymore. Sure, there are moments, sort of flashes, but they don’t last long.

Sometimes it is like I am living a double life. One life lives inside myself, a life I hide from everybody, a life I live with my own thoughts. People who know me can just feel a hint of it, like if someone lived inside myself in another dimension they are not allowed to go. They feel it but they don’t know what it could be, like listening to a ghost speaking a foreign language they don’t understand. From the outside acts the so-called real life. But which one is the real life? The life that everybody can see and interpret or the other one? It is a continuous fight. Which one will be the winner?

It is so difficult to express sensations using words. Sometimes writers succeed, those who are very good at it, but above all the painters. In a painting they can describe pain, anguish, happiness, love. Nevertheless, those are again sensations, nobody will ever know what the painter was feeling at the moment he draw the lines and put on the colors. Again it is impossible to enter inside that inner dimension.

I don’t even know why I am writing these words. I would like somebody to listen to me even if he can’t understand me. A few minutes ago I thought it was necessary, now I realize that these words are incomprehensible even to myself. Nevertheless I want you to listen to them even if you don’t understand.For sure you will feel a sensation and this means a lot to me. Destiny made us meet and at the same time put a barrier between us two, the distance. We don’t know whether this is a good or a bad thing, we can’t judge it. For sure you can understand, at least partially, my words which seem absurd and crazy but which are not.

JUST AN ORDINARY STORY

MALE Version

Where do I begin
To tell the story of how great a love can be
The sweet love story that is older than the sea
The simple truth about the love she brings to me
Where do I start

With her first hello
She gave new meaning to this empty world of mine
There'd never be another love, another time
She came into my life and made the living fine
She fills my heart

She fills my heart with very special things
With angels songs , with wild imaginings
She fills my soul with so much love
That anywhere I go I'm never lonely
With her around, who could be lonely
I reach for her hand, it’s always there

How long does it last
Can love be measured by the hours in a day
I have no answers now but this much I can say
I know Ill need her till the stars all burn away
And she’ll be there

How long does it last
Can love be measured by the hours in a day
I have no answers now but this much I can say
I know I’ll need her till the stars all burn away
And she’ll be there

FEMALE Version

Where do I begin?
To tell the story of how great a love can be
The sweet love story that is older than the sea
The simple truth about the love he brings to me
Where do I start?

Like a summer rain
That cools the pavement with a patent leather shine
He came into my life and made the living fine
And gave a meaning to this empty world of mine
He fills my heart

He fills my heart with very special things
With angels' songs, with wild imaginings
He fills my soul with so much love
That anywhere I go, I'm never lonely
With him along, who could be lonely
I reach for his hand, it's always there

How long does it last?
Can love be measured by the hours in a day?
I have no answers now, but this much I can say
I'm going to need him till the stars all burn away
And he'll be there

He fills my heart with very special things
With angels' songs, with wild imaginings
He fills my soul with so much love
That anywhere I go, I'm never lonely
With him along, who could be lonely
I reach for his hand, it's always there

How long does it last?
Can love be measured by the hours in a day?
I have no answers now, but this much I can say
I'm going to need him till the stars all burn away
And he'll be there

felébredt

domenica 6 maggio 2012

giovedì 15 marzo 2012

venerdì 24 febbraio 2012

Letter to a dear friend

domenica 5 febbraio 2012

Dolceacqua

giovedì 2 febbraio 2012

Hősök tere

lunedì 30 gennaio 2012

LA VITA E' BELLA

WHERE DO I BEGIN?