WAITING FOR SOMETHING

There are those days when you no longer understand anything, what up to a second before gave you happiness, makes you nervous, that thing that gave you suffering, becomes pathetic. In a few moments, everything loses sense and you feel like in a bubble, enclosed with your apathy, while the world around you goes on. Maybe some individual expresses perplexity, almost anger towards you, wondering and wondering, the why of all this … But you can’t answer yourself, let alone them and then you stay inside, waiting for the arrival of something or someone who instead of continuing to soap you, it will be able to burst your barrier and make you feel alive, again. During these two years of imprisonment I have clung to words and promises that very often people make based on the circumstances, the moments of darkness. When this life returns to “normal” these words will have vanished, forgotten, because supported by a general illusion of being able to be better than what we really are. We are human. We need comfort and a foothold in our worst days. As soon as we get better we will behave exactly as we have always behaved. There is a pre-pandemic and a post-pandemic. The present we are experiencing is just a parenthesis that contains everything we would like to be but that our pride and our selfishness will extinguish as soon as possible.

STORY OF A STUDENT

I think: I love your handwriting, who knows where you got that 4 that seems a little wrong to me, but then in reality it's all a bit wrong, so the place we share, you are so messy and you have a lot of vices that basically I would not take away from you

I say: it is absurd that we have known each other for a long time and how is it that we have not seen each other before?

I think: the first time i saw you we were so close and now i know i'm not quiet until you tell me it made you nervous, and i love that you never take it out on me, pout and pretend mad with that muscular giant look and then two minutes later you're already pinching my butt

I say: how nice that we have never argued and neither of us ever wants to find an excuse to do so and we never got angry and we talk a lot and then hey we fucked almost 200 times but you believe it? you know how to do it, that's cool

I think: who knows how he doesn't get mad even when I accidentally break glass glasses or I'm clumsy and dirty something or spill cherries on the table or distract him while he is about to win a game

I say: love put our photo back in the bedside table that is crooked or you always make it fall

I think: I would like to collect your sweatshirts, your papers, your notes, your CDs, your broken pens, your playlists, your books thrown to the ground, your blankets always in very bad shape, your large t-shirts, your funny socks, and I have your sweat on and your smell too, let's go to the shower and I love putting soap in your back and scolding you when you don't dry your hair or put on socks

I say: now I'll make you bed before going out because I don't like how you do it, because you do it badly and eat a little more while we play League so you can show me how to use that character?

I think: come on come closer now that I would like a kiss and you still make me this effect and the shivers more and more I like them very much and when you lock my hands behind my back I don't understand much anymore as when your hands explore, no I don't understand much when you take me by the neck but I feel your breath

I say: close your drawer that there are our things and especially mine

I think: I would like to pierce this bubble of absolute self-sufficiency and tell you that I need you and tell you that all the people I know have always had a habit of comparing and saying 'you are like that, it looks like you' and other bullshit like that, while me instead with you I never had any yardstick and the first times in your house I looked at you and I saw only you, I could not compare you to anything, really to nothing and now I realize that you do not look like anything I have ever seen in my life.

IN THE BLUE NIGHT

The footprints of the night walk beside me.
I meet the eyes of tomorrow
and call in silence
the actions, the waves,
the tracks of the sea wind.
I remain leaning against the clouds,
my face sways, he tells you lashing words.
Blue candy floss night. I have a root in my heart.
I have roots in the mind.
I have roots that germinate blue flowers.
My face in clouds.
My space inside.
Remember the stone.
The stone in the blue sea where
I seat and think about your galaxy.
My blue eyes see your nitght flowers.

I often stay staring at the sky while I’m in the car or just when I’m walking around. I look at the sky because from there my mind opens and makes me reach the sea of ​​stars on the expanse of salty, clear water, full of star reflections. It reminds me of winter evenings, when with very few degrees I was short-sleeved on the beach taking pictures. As I looked at the immensity of the sky, I imagined people who, like me, looked at nothing like a dreamer. I imagined people looking at the stars immersed in black to return home or as they looked out on the balcony or the bedroom window with a cigarette between their lips or a steaming cup, and in taking their time to think, they lost themselves looking at the sky with eyes and heart full of anger or sadness, letting oneself be engulfed in the bubble leaving the world outside, and who knows, maybe we are all astronauts but with the fear of leaving the earth and entering the darkness of the universe among the planets and the stars.

During the day I manage not to get lost in my thoughts. I easily evade tedious issues, impending responsibilities, troubled problems. But in the evening, how the fuck is it done? What is the reason that leads us to reflect more than necessary? Why does the setting of the sun urge us to express our concerns, to accumulate our disturbances? It is late at night and, while I let myself be carried away by this inexplicable introspective flow, I have not yet found the answer.

I think that in twenty years of existence – let’s call it life, if you like – I still haven’t found half a person willing to look at me for a moment and – why not? – to look inside, and not stop outside. I have so many things inside that I don’t say, I don’t do, I don’t share with anyone because no one in my opinion can understand them as I see them. And it’s always the same story. I’m not saying I don’t love my friends. I couldn’t say it and denying it would be a lie. They are an essential part of my good mood. But I don’t know, sometimes these people seem unknown to me in spite of everything, because they don’t see things as I do, and it’s a bad thing because it means that I can’t really get to know myself probably and it makes me wonder if these people would like it. same good to another me, more personal, iridescent, perhaps crazy. I just want to be myself even more and I just can’t take so many things inside me anymore that are filtered before I speak, think, act in the company of other people. Ask me something, whatever interests you looking at my blog, I am in a moment of absolute truth.