Everything seems to be made of polystyrene. Dreams, reality, politics and life, there is no longer anything solid in this damn world. Everything is easily destructible, corruptible and flexible, everything gives way to a minimum of pressure. By now man has become of polystyrene and everything created by himself, something that visually seems stable, but really is not, something that serves to pack the fragile (sensitive) part of man himself, but which really does not ensures “non-destruction”. It is that we live dealing with the external part of things, without taking care of the substance, this goes from politics understood as the “art of governing a state” from the Greek, to the citizen (from the etymology of the word politics); therefore it is from a group of people up to the individual who live regardless of what is really present inside things. We are the myth of the cave, we deal too much with shadows, and too little with reality. Everything around me smells of something tasteless, monochromatic and pseudo-plastic, therefore polystyrene, which is the most insignificant thing in the package, but the one that holds everything together. This “polystyrene” in reality holds only the lies together, and holds the houses without any foundations. We are convinced that we live in something solid, which actually does not exist, we are dreaming, this is what we are doing.
Anger. Here’s what I feel. With all the fucking strength in my body, all I feel is anger. I can’t say why I’m so angry, but I can say that I’m afraid of losing the people I care about, I’m afraid of suffering again, I’m afraid of living well, I’m afraid of being stupid and crazy. Maybe this makes me anxious, maybe this makes me fucking pissed off. To calm myself down on the days when I think I’m freaking out I try to think of a word, I repeat in my mind only that one until I feel I have repeated it enough, because the mind is mine and there is nothing that can hurt me, it is not there. ‘it’s nothing that makes me feel uncomfortable, it’s just me and myself. Anger because I can’t have a solution for every problem. Anger for a child that I always see sad. Anger for all men who do harm. Anger for all mothers who harm their children. I can’t stop them. I cannot act. This makes me panic. I hate not being able to act, not being able to solve the situation, I hate not being able to save a child.

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