And then there are days when you can’t keep your thoughts at bay, the most hidden, the deepest and the worst. They go out like this, suddenly, when you least expect it, maybe while you are singing a song in the car at the top of your lungs with your friends, while you walk, study, drive, while you kiss your boyfriend, they can go out like this, without warning, wake up or reminder to hold and take your head and heart hostage indefinitely. And you are there, helpless, you let yourself be enveloped by these paranoia and you bind yourself to them as if they were certainties. They don’t make you sleep, they don’t make you eat or they make you overeat, they make you feel blame for who you are and what you are not. And you stay there, you listen to them like a mantra that repeats itself in a loop in your head. After all, you cannot escape from yourself.
I can never sleep at night because I never want to dream. It destabilizes me to think of myself in other contexts, perhaps because I’m not ready to take flight. Yet I seem so very brave, so badass, sometimes bold. I love to laugh, I laugh at stupid things, and at the same time I love to make others laugh. It makes me feel good. And for every laugh I get, I hear a “hey, you’re making me laugh, thank you”. At night I throw up everything I keep inside during the day. For necessity? Out of fatigue? Or maybe because I’m just a person. People never know shit about me, and I can’t blame them. How could I? I never expose myself, and when I have a dark moment, I isolate myself. And it is not true that I feel a burden for others, on the contrary, I feel that I am a burden only for myself. And I’ve understood this since I started looking at myself in the mirror again. But what do the others know? How many disarming cries, how many fights lost or simply how many defeats at the start that I have collected? What do they know about how I lie shamelessly when I say I’m fine? That I say it so many times that now I believe it too. But despite that, I’m still here writing. Luckily, I dare to say. Because the day I stop doing it, it means that I will have found the method to stop outsourcing anything. And then my heart will explode. And I, in my heart, care. Because I think it’s the purest and most beautiful part of me. Despite being crumpled, despite being chipped, scratched, abused or just used too much.
THE PRODIGY OF IDEAS 