Proud people seem the strongest, but instead they are the ones who need affection most of all. They pretend to not care when a word is enough to hurt them, when they prefer not to say anything in order not to hurt their loved ones. They are the ones who would like a hug but are ashamed to ask for it.
They are the ones who have forged an armor with all the disappointments they have had over time, so that, later on, it will be more difficult for them to be hurt.
They have armor that they believe is indestructible when a hug is enough to untie it or a kiss to break it. They are those who when they see someone happy are happy and sad at the same time, happy for their happiness and sad for not knowing that word on their skin.
They are those people who keep everything inside for fear of ruining their image. For fear of being seen fragile or even crying because this is what happens to keep everything inside.
If you try to get rid of your frustrations you will end up crying, and as a proud person you would rather die than be seen crying. All they seek is affection, but they are unable to ask for it.
And so, as usual, the old toy, now useless, past, believed unable to surprise again, to entertain, is replaced again.
Not thrown away or left free to be the source of joy for anyone who wants.
No.
Left the corner.
A little out of affection, because after all they have been through a lot together, a little to have entertainment, however sincere in the event that the new toy breaks.
As already happened.
He watches and who knows what he's waiting for.
It was just laid there, the old man.
Think of the past years and the updates made, which in the end is not so obsolete, and strengthens itself.
He thinks that his only desire was to be the main source of joy.
Do you think that he would have been able, that he would have found the strength to become everything he needed.
Remember when it was like this.
He remembers when it was enough for him to look at him to make him smile.
He remembers when he was the one who had the place of honor in the bed, to bring affection and comfort in the dark of nights.
And he remembers the new little promises that were made to him, like the upcoming campground where it would take him.
Before the arrival of the new.
But not now.
Now it's in the corner.
Alone.
Forced to watch the scene.
Property.
In silence.
There was a time when I had an Italian blog and I wrote poems, personal things, I showed my paintings, I talked about my problems. I didn’t talk about gossip and fashion and therefore few people commented. The thing that amazed me most about people who didn’t write me half a word of encouragement is that these same people filled other blogs with sweet words, looking like sensitive and empathetic people. I was left in absolute silence. I still see these people writing beautiful things commenting on the misfortunes of others. So I wonder, what did he dislike about me? My spontaneity? My knowledge? Why have they never seen my pain? I could have died and no one would have known. I can’t understand why these people write so many words to others and never write half a word to me. Yet I wrote comments in their blogs and I always participated and tried to read everything but this was useless. I remained invisible to them. Yet for others they have many kind words for everyone, they show a lot of affection to other Italian bloggers. Even now I don’t understand what was in me that he didn’t like. It seems so strange to me to see them write affectionate words to everyone and instead they did not deign to me and I never had even a word of comfort. They say that Italians are warm and affectionate, well as an Italian hostess I have to deny this version, because I have never had any comfort from any Italian user. Maybe I was too sincere. Maybe I was too naive. But I still don’t understand. I have found more love among you who live far from me, and even overseas, and not from my countrymen and I cannot understand this. 2,000 followers who read my blog and no charitable soul who would tell me anything. In the end I deleted the blog because their silence was very bad and I was very bad because even as an abused child I was always invisible. And so I thank all of you, I thank you from my heart, for being close to me because in certain bad moments a word is enough to make me understand that I exist.
Educating men. The problem is that women who bring up their children are often anaffective, natcisist, ambivalent and selfish. In recent times in many families the woman is an example of unbridled materialism, hunger for success and extreme narcissism. Many children are literally abandoned to their grandparents or uncles because the young parents are busy in their hectic life on social media. Mothers who are divided between videos on instagram and tik tok, sitting in beauty centers and running for shopping. Fathers glued to chats where they sneak up on half-naked girls, looking for the most daring encounters. So what can children receive from these individuals taken only by themselves and their selfish desires? They do not receive any affection and therefore as soon as they find someone to attach themselves to they become possessive and obsessive. Because for them that woman becomes the center of their world that has been empty. And when the woman becomes aware of such oppressive feelings, it is too late. And if by chance he tries to leave the man, he will take revenge in a negative way. So these men who grew up with absent mothers become too present and pressing. Mothers themselves create these insensitive monsters. Mothers themselves no longer know how to educate their children because they are busy advertising themselves. And the cases of femicides increase because there are so many children who grow up mistreated and rejected by narcissistic mothers. What have women become? Materialistic and obsessed with success. Unfortunately, the cause of a bad education of males is the women themselves. 😟
THE PRODIGY OF IDEAS 