Today I don’t feel like it, even yesterday I didn’t feel like it, maybe I haven’t felt like it for several days, it bothers me to think about how much time is passing by now. I don’t feel like it and I go back to bed, I put on the music, today Italian because I need words, I need to listen to something that tells me a story, L’Officina della Camomilla sounds like a fairy tale, like a Walt Disney cartoon but revisited from Tim Burton: They listen to horrible music and turn poets upside down, they skip dinner and most of all they don’t want to see anyone. I also don’t feel like it. I start writing here, I still don’t know what in particular, I write thoughts, as if there was someone to tell them to, perhaps because I wish there was someone, perhaps I like to believe that someone is listening. The “on air” sign has lit up and I can start with words. And I think of all the things I could do, “I could” because I don’t “have” to do anything anymore, no commitment to respect, I miss work, I miss monotony, I miss habits, I seem to have become useless, but for who? For society? Maybe yes. Maybe I miss giving my very small contribution within a company, the collaboration, the dates, the deadlines. Now I would have to iron my clothes, put some items on sale (vintage online seems to be in fashion), vacuum the clothes, go to the supermarket, finish the book on the nightstand. How did it happen? How did it happen that the commitments I didn’t have time for turned into all that remains? What am I? Yet I don’t feel like it, I keep putting off these little things like when I didn’t have time to do them. How slow the hours go by, how long the days are, and how empty … Who knows how many we are. The truth is that I feel turned off, reset, I would like to do things that before I did not give the importance that I now understand they had, I want to go to the cinema, I want to visit a gallery, I want to see other landscapes, all the beauty that surrounds me begins to lose its value, everything looks like something small compared to the world outside, I miss the sea, I miss the scents, the flavors, I am no longer hungry, I have lost my enthusiasm and I do not know where to look for it. And I’m afraid, this version of myself scares me, there is a cesspool, deep, too deep, I dropped a pebble in it and I still haven’t heard it coming, from the bottom there is not even the echo, and I I feel very lonely. What a difficult life. they say (and I tell myself) that you have to reinvent yourself, but I feel so simple and obvious that I just don’t know where to start again. It’s a loop of first steps and relapses. Where does it end when it starts to fade?

1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Ashley
    Aug 19, 2021 @ 14:01:51



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