TWISTED IN MY SOLITUDE

Now I'll explain. Basically I find tenderness in the most absurd things and 
I feel affection even for those I almost don't even know. maybe because I empathize, because I'm fantastic. who knows. 
nd it's not a passing thing, maybe I happen to see those people after some time or that I happen to think and hope that everything is all right, that they have in life not what they want but what can make them feel good. 
Sometimes it's enough for me to know just a few things about certain people and I end up imagining what it would be like to be able to do something about them for them and see the joy in their eyes. 
Other times I think of picking up and leaving to see them there 
walking around their city and running towards them, I imagine them surprised as they say to me "what are you doing here?" 
"I wanted to see you, to spend time with you, to feel close to you, 
to make sure that this day can be good for you". I go around social media or shops and think "ah he'd love this like crazy" and then I think I'm crazy to think that I haven't even exchanged a word with that person. 
I don't know if it might seem creepy to someone, but I still try to keep it mostly to myself. 
Fantasizing about millions of events that I will never do with these people maybe while listening to a song and looking in the mirror or while I'm in bed and looking at the ceiling.

FRAGILE SOULS

Sometimes I stop to think … I find myself lying on the mattress staring at the ceiling and reflect. I think a lot, maybe too much, and we know that too much is good, unfortunately it’s part of me and I just can’t avoid it, it’s as if it were an unconditional reflection. I think back to everything, everyone, I think back to everything that made me feel good but also to everything that made me suffer. Today I went to bed with tears in my eyes and a weight on my chest and I think it’s one of the most unpleasant sensations in the world, you know? When you just want to sleep and switch off your brain, but you get so sick that you just mull over what doesn’t work. I interpret it as psychological torture: to suffer for something, and to feel even more hurt after thinking about it intensely for hours. What an unpleasant feeling of oppression. Oppressed by their own feelings, rather than by people. It is strange to think how something apparently abstract, such as emotions, can alienate you from the totality of the world for an indefinite period of time. It’s almost scary to think we’re so vulnerable, but it’s part of life after all … If it were too simple, it probably wouldn’t be worth it.

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