INVISIBLE

I keep feeling invisible. Everyday. I can’t do anything but smile like a fool, trying to convince myself that it can get better. But I already know that none of this will happen. And I’m afraid that this feeling that I have been feeling for months may last until the end of this year, perhaps leading me to exhaustion. I do not feel understood or listened to, for months I have been talking to the wall also demanding an answer, any reaction … A reaction that will never come, knowing those with whom I “speak” as a rule, too busy feeling important to even worry about why I respond badly to everyone in the morning. There is a reason, but they also ignore that. Could it be better? By now I have also lost hope in this. Fantastic.
Stuck here staring at a stupid temple with the intent of giving voice to thoughts. The room is cold, it is raining outside and the rumors go round … thought after thought, the inability to give him a sense of logic is now far away, it must have been the hard day. Is it true that when we are tired we tend to think about who we shouldn’t? Oh, him, my friend of adventures, capable of making you feel over the moon but just as low as to be afraid. What is it that troubles me? What is it that is stopping me? Will I regret it someday or will another sixth sense be successful? What if the famous train everyone talks about has already passed? How do I know if it’s not someone else who just wants to play with my heart? I don’t know, I just know that anxiety assails me at night, the constant fear of becoming too attached to me. Where is this love? I can’t see it, touch it, feel it, feel it, I can hear some words, but I can’t do anything about it with simple words. Crying for someone who would never cry for you what nonsense is this? Go from loving so much until you feel every stab. Too many thoughts for one mind, how does it hold them all?
You realize that you are really alone when you are crying and you start stroking your hair to calm down. I would like to disappear and no longer be found by anyone. I am immobile, I see life passing by in front of me I know I’m not paralyzed yet nothing about me wants to move. Something jumped. A fundamental pact between me and life. And I stay looking at it. I feel time slipping on my skin but that’s all I feel. An emotional squeeze from the heart gradually eases the whole body. And the blood turns black with ink. Obviously my hands move. I’m writing.

I WAS FULL OF IDEAS

Me too I would have liked to have few ideas, but fixed; instead of ideas I have many, but there is no glue that keeps them attached to me. Then those go far away, take flights that are not so controlled, they collide against some walls at times, at other times they get stuck in the trees and remain hanging somewhere that in any case I can no longer reach. Instead what I like, and what I like is what I do not stop wanting. I don't know if the nature of desires is to change and disappear: I only know that mine is to keep them close to me, close enough to let my heart and body, thoughts and all the pains related to thoughts shape me; I let them make me somatize, host the pain even on the skin and under the skin, in all the organs corroded by what I want and cannot have. I know it never changes what I like, but it was more important to find out what it is that I like. There was a time that seems very distant to me when I needed the wishes of others to discover mine, and I swear that I also tried to adapt, to file my edges to please me what everyone liked. Then I learned to choose, to choose for me and to choose me, which in the end I only recognize myself in what I like. And so I choose to prefer my pale skin to tanned shoulders, and black eyes to my almost transparent ones; I choose to prefer the leaves of the trees that are moved by the wind in the spring, and to let myself be bothered without shame by the smell of the sea in the summer; I choose to prefer D'Annunzio to Pirandello, and also to fight to defend this position if needed and for nothing else; I choose to shop together rather than watch a movie, kiss you with your eyes open to see that you laugh a little; I choose to prefer to offer you a dinner and then ask you if you will buy me a flower: it is a slightly more beautiful gesture of love; and I prefer to wake up early in the morning, sunset on the marble of the cathedral to the one on the sea, tea with coffee, being touched, lilies with roses. And then I know that I prefer to remember these things, to write them so as not to forget them, because it is always better to know where to return: in fact I choose to prefer to write to everything else, because it reminds me how to do it.

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.

 

I DELETED MY BLOG

I deleted my blog, with 2300 followers, because the dialogue was over. Because writing in English I wanted to reach more people and I couldn’t do it by having an Italian blog. Now here I say everything I think, as a woman, as an artist, as a professional. I want to express every part of me, tell about me, my life, and my thoughts. I don’t care that I have lost so many followers, this is not important, but it is the essence that we explain that survives. Anything could happen to us every day and I want to fix my existence here.

LOVE IS NOT THE ANSWER

If I think back to how much love I gave to people who didn’t want it, how many disappointments I had, how much sadness and suffering, how much anticipation and anger! now it doesn’t seem true that the end of all this has come. I poured my love into hearts that did not feel, into souls that did not live. I gave myself to people dead inside, to those who did not know what it meant to love, to those who do not yet know what it means to love. I painted love in minds that just wanted not to love. I tried, tried, risked everything about myself, even my sanity, my inner well-being. And all because within me this energy needed to flow out, to be given to others, to expand, to go out and fulfill itself. After so much wandering, the unexpected landing is the best thing. Where you never thought you could find a place of peace and serenity, you arrive right there by chance, discovering that everything that was was only a prelude and to what would come after. After so much torment, so much existential fatigue, after every conflict and inner struggle, now I can say that everything has taken its place within me. That there was a total stop of that wild and dangerous flood that came out of me every time I tried to stop myself. That noisy and chaotic waterfall that poured onto the other, like an explosion of uncontrollable energy, now flows by itself in a different way. The tiger that roared inside the lotus flower has now disappeared and the lotus flower has opened and shines with light never seen before. My Tai Chi master had seen well, but it was I who couldn’t see because the times weren’t right yet. There was all that water that stirred my heart, which deprived me of that vision of myself that I still could not have. Because I was not yet ready for enlightenment. Now I understand that enlightenment can only be found if it is not sought. It comes at a time when you don’t look for it at all and you may feel you can never even get there because you are not the type, because you do not have that way of seeing or feeling. Because you are in the hell of life and you can’t think that anything else can exist. It comes at a time when the last thought of your life is to have that vision and that peace that you have always dreamed of. And only now do I understand why it is so difficult to describe it to others, why it is difficult to find the words that can describe such an inner state. It is a bit like when Buddhists try to explain that suffering does not exist and that it is only a construction of man. If I go to see what has been inside me so far, I find nothing but nothing. But it is that nothing that is stupendous, that is a whole. Because becoming nothing, becoming emptiness is a splendid thing. Nothing has become my past. There is no longer any trace of it inside me. There is no one and no thing. Everything has vanished into the nothingness that I am now. A lotus flower needs only water to grow and water is the only source it needs. Everything else no longer exists. The inner light is the only source, the rest is something that never comes. My being is aware of the journey it has made to become the Void, and the acquired well-being is extraordinary. Because my being no longer needs anything. Love, anger, life, sun, food, friendship, internet,… ..all these things seem made of smoke to me. I am like an impalpable fog inside me. No sensation comes to me from the outside but it is my being that flows and that’s enough for me. Before, the world was the fertilizer for my plant. Now my plant grows by itself, has its roots in the sky and the sap comes from the light. It does not need anything else. The void needs nothing else. My heart is still beating, it is alive, yes, but inside my heart there is only infinite light. Inside me there is only one lotus flower that blooms every day.

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