CALL FOR ALL THE “V”

Everything has now become a struggle. Against someone, against something, against the rival, against the rich, against those who do not do, against those who do, against the beautiful, against the ugly. Against judgment that shows just as much judgment, against reason that shows just as much compulsion, against the true, against the false. I saw an advertisement for a woman who “has been fighting obesity for years”. Against. Those behind the scenes know very well what it means to animate the feeling of struggle instead of confrontation. They know that counter strengthens and expands exactly what it is believed to be fighting for. Going against a physical problem, instead of understanding it, as with everything else … gives you back tripled. Keep fighting, keep going against you.
Aren’t we also like that giant of the forest? Sometimes we survive the rare storms, the avalanches, the harsh blows of existence, and then let our hearts devour the little insects of worry, insects that one would be able to squeeze between the thumb and forefinger. Anxiety is not mine, I know. It is something that lives outside, but which I have brought inside and which has now made its home inside me. Anxiety is not mine, anxiety is not me. It is not a war against myself, it is a war against what is around me. I was too, you know, tired of fighting against life, of always having to find a shortcut, a way out, of feeling inadequate, of looking for an alternative to the future, of not knowing how to be myself because it would not have been. popular; tired of the past that slips into the chest like blades, of indecision, of the emptiness inside that seems to speak, that seems to say: “It will all end”.
I feel alone, I stare into space, I wonder how long this will last, I hug the pillow, I cry in silence. They tell me to do it alone, to pull myself up and fight, but the weight I carry is too heavy and only makes me sink lower and lower, deeper and deeper. I find myself in total darkness and no one cares, there is no one there, I only hear the sound of my breath. Memories crowd my mind, my chest hurts, now I even struggle to breathe, I feel like a body without a soul, I feel trapped in a cage. You have to fight, they said. You have to fight they say. But they don’t know, they don’t know that girl no longer exists. That girl, that I was, stayed there in that room.

A ROSE ON THE MOON

Do you know what you are? A rose. A beautiful rose. That people have not been able to handle well so far, they got points, points of those defects that you had not yet seen, and then you started trying to hide them; you are a rose who did not know you had thorns until too many people told her they had them, and for too much too long, long, she worried about those two or three thorns that hurt certain people, which were really nothing else what fools, unable to keep it well. You are a rose who has spent so much time looking at the thorns that you have forgotten how red and beautiful its petals are.
In the end, I always thought that people have to sweat it out. Come on, who do you want to get a beautiful thing without passion? I love to be there to gnaw for a kiss. Go home and stay with the fixed thought of “why he didn’t do it” or “why he doesn’t hold me”. It will be because I do not give myself. The beautiful part of me, the one that many talk about but of which no one really knows the essence, I do not offer. I will be exaggerating perhaps, but there are wounds that do not need to be touched yet. I don’t need pain anymore. And just as I love to win a caress, I want to make it conquer.
And this is perhaps the most beautiful part of you Rose, that you have an honest heart and you have a heart that is proud of you, a heart that many would like because it is not bought, it has no compromises, it is not for everyone, it is loyal, because it is a heart that gives space to a few, as you do. And whoever has even managed to enter there, in your heart, is a privileged one.
You sit down at the table. You look carefully at everything in front of you. You feel the cramps of hunger and the mind that constantly suggests you to eat. You are tempted to grab that piece of pizza, that slice of cake and then throw yourself headlong onto the tin of cookies and devour them one by one. But hold on. You promised yourself not to give up, you would never do it again, and so it was. Self-control prevailed and you didn’t allow yourself to be overwhelmed by temptation. You feel proud and proud, nothing is more satisfying than being able to control yourself and manage your hunger. There is nothing more satisfying than having what can kill you psychologically in front of you and not giving it the power to do so.
You looked at me
as if I was the thing the most beautiful in the world
and you healed me from the disease ugliest in the world:
fear not to be loved never again.

I HAVEN’T SEEN “LIFE IS BEAUTIFUL”

I have not seen “Life is beautiful”. And I have not seen “The boy in the striped pajamas”. Do you know why? After seeing “Shindler’s List” I was sick for 3 months. I was in Palermo. I went to Zen and left there all my books, my jewels, my paintings, my clothes, everything I owned. I’ve never told anyone. I managed to get into Zen because I was dressed like a gypsy (they control everything). When I was a little girl and I saw a movie “Amazonia” during the break I went out of the cinema, went to a shop, bought some make-up, went back to the cinema, went to the bathroom and put on my make-up like an Indios. At the end of the film everyone was looking at me as if they had seen an alien. I lay badly for months and months. I wrote desperate letters to the president of Brazil, I wrote to the Pope, many letters that have never been answered. Certain films, about certain truths, make me snap something, and I risk my life. I do absurd things. After seeing “American Sniper” I bought a ticket for Iraq and had to leave. Except that I have health problems and my doctor told me that I would go to die without my drugs. I cannot know of some suffering otherwise I feel too bad and do unthinkable things. When I was 4 they abused me for a long time, and so I know what it feels like when you get great pain. It’s not up to me, I can’t get rid of it.

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