I feel the movement of the wind, it creeps between my fingers, transforms my blue dress making it sway like sea water. melancholy hits me, I close my eyes and breathe distant air. melancholy of places never seen before, of lights and colors; I feel them under my skin without ever having lived them. the murmur of the wind among the leaves becomes more intense, it cradles my faded memories. I feel consumed. - but who am I? a wrapper. an empty, jagged shell. I do not know. I don't know who I am. a muffled melody, I barely feel it and my body becomes stone. and within that body of stone the pain that was awakens. and I feel it squeeze my breath, hold it, scratch it, and my chest burns, torn and wants to explode, but it doesn't. it was, but it is no longer. I open my eyes, the sky clears up, I feel it calling me. there is a perfume, when it is no longer night, but it is not yet morning. there is a tangible scent that the wind carries with it and in silence I I hear peace. and in the stillness of that juncture which is no longer night, but not yet morning, the words of the wind fly free. the air is crisp, the grass wet, the trees sway and I seem to hear them talking. I seem to see them dance. the wind is becoming, it is change. the wind blows, while the sun rises on the horizon, brash, alive, passionate. it blows hard enough to lift my feet off the ground. and while the world still sleeps I fly over thoughts, dreams, I fly light like a butterfly towards the sky. I become of wind.


They say that I have changed, that I am no longer the sunny girl, the one who always smiled, who got along well with everyone, who immediately made friends, the carefree one, without problems, without a thousand paranoia, the me of the past. The truth is that she got lost among the disappointments, the times when I wanted to scream but remained silent, the ‘all right’ that never were, but no one noticed.
The myself of the past has been lost in the wickedness of life. Among the people who betray you, among the lies, among all those who have abandoned me. Excuse me so much if now I am more evil, more proud and perhaps even a little selfish, sorry if I am not always happy with others but now I am thinking of myself. Excuse me so much if I don’t suit you anymore, but this is just survival instinct.
Who knows what people feel when they realize they are alone. When she realizes that the world is not looking for her, that no one thinks of her, when she realizes that she will have to face monsters under the bed alone, when she realizes that people do not understand her, when they understand that the world will not be around her. Who knows what people feel when they understand that sometimes you are better off alone, when they understand that no one will help you in life, when the world does not understand you. Who knows what people feel when they understand that the world does not listen to their silences, does not understand them, does not try to help them. When the world collapses against him, when everything around him seems less colorful. When the world is seen either in black or white, never in another color. Who knows what people feel when they understand that the world uses their frailties to kill them slowly. Who knows what she feels when she realizes that she is surrounded by loneliness. Who knows if he fights it, if he rolls up his sleeves so as not to collapse or if he replaces it with anyone. Who knows if people when they understand that loneliness is overwhelming them struggle. Who knows what people feel when they understand that loneliness is part of their life and they can’t do anything to stop it. Who knows if people with loneliness talk to us, play with us, laugh at us, joke about it or if maybe at the moment they are at home, they have to fight against something bigger than them. Who knows if people make loneliness their best friend, if they learn to live with it, if after a while they don’t want to let it go. Who knows if people fear loneliness, if they are afraid of it, if at the very thought of it they stop breathing. Who knows if one day people will find happiness in solitude. Who knows if one day people will realize that being alone is sometimes a salvation “


The point is, when you’re fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, you can do anything. You can afford to be wrong. The thing is, it’s beautiful and we don’t realize it. It is the age of skipping school and falsifying it justifies it. Sweaters that are too baggy, tea under the covers on Sunday afternoons with friends. Concerts. The scars on his arms. The writings in the school toilets. It is the age of mistakes, the age that does not return, the age of whatever you do you can still fix. It is the age of crying for things that are nothing and seem everything, the age of first loves, the first kisses, the pain of when it ends, the “forever” that will never be. The fact is that it is wonderful and we do not realize it, we put ourselves in a cage for fear of life, without realizing that the real life is right now, the one that will not come back, the one that at thirty we would like to be able to relive. The fact is that we are a damned, burned, gone, passed away generation. The generation of facebook, twitter and tumblr. Conversation stamps, messages that are too long, too many tasks, dilators and tattoos done without thinking. Of “I want to live in London”, “I want to live in New York”. Poems on school desks. The films seen a thousand times. Friendships from a distance. The stations. The trains. The insecurities. Stop eating and start again two days later. And it’s beautiful, we just don’t realize it. I just don’t realize it. It’s time to start breathing, screaming and living. Live to your skin and bones. Live to consume our souls.
The strangest thing of all is that you learn quickly, that you suddenly begin to recognize things, to call them by their real name. When someone you love dies, something comes that grabs your belly and won’t let you go. No heart, no, the heartbeat remains the same, the blood pumps in and out, the chest doesn’t hurt, the famous pang in the heart is just an invention of those who write serial novels in the Thursday weekly. The pain that makes you double over is the pain in your stomach. It is not as strong as that of a fist but it manages to be worse, because it starts from the inside, crawls down the throat, floods your bowels and closes everything. The pain of dead love is as ferocious as suffocating, but I’ll get used to it. There will be many things that I will have to get used to, and there will be just as many that I will have to do without



Everyone who thinks of Dante and his love for Beatrice. But no one who thinks of Dante’s wife. Have you ever wondered how she could have felt? She, who lived with a man who continued to write for another. Didn’t you ever think that maybe she could stop eating to become Beatrice? Or crying in front of the mirror, why didn’t she feel as beautiful as Beatrice? The point is that as much as Dante may love Beatrice, he had married another. But it is a pity that no one thinks of the other one.
I don’t even have tears anymore .. Now I keep everything inside .. I repress everything .. It scares me to think, if one day I will ever explode, the damage I will do .. This is why I feel the need to leave .. Away .. Just the time to understand .. And to make it clear that my presence should not be taken for granted .. Only then will I be able to return, perhaps, to my normal life .. But unfortunately I can only leave with my imagination .. And thinking about the next trip I will make a phone call.
I don’t even have tears anymore .. Now I keep everything inside .. I repress everything .. It scares me to think, if one day I will ever explode, the damage I will do .. This is why I feel the need to leave .. Away .. Just the time to understand .. And to make it clear that my presence should not be taken for granted .. Only then will I be able to return, perhaps, to my normal life .. But unfortunately I can only leave with my imagination .. And thinking about the next trip I will make a phone call.
I decided to go out with you at a probably not very lucid moment. Not that I don’t want to see you, because deep down I miss you and seeing you is always nice. It’s just that every time I screw myself, I imagine going out with the person I have idealized and who in reality doesn’t belong to you, doesn’t even belong to you a little. And so, every time I meet you, punctually, you destroy every beautiful part that I have imagined of you as well as every little part that I have managed to rebuild of myself. And a couple of hours later I find myself on the floor in the dark crying for the person that I am, which you blatantly told me whether I am or not, and I lose my balance and my stability. I shouldn’t have agreed to meet you, I shouldn’t have even thought about it. Thus, from the euphoria of the day before, the anguish of the next day passed. And here I am, running the mascara on my tear-soaked lashes even before I meet you. Because this time the moment of clarity and rationality came first, like the stomach ache and the heart in the throat. I’ll take a deep breath and pretend I haven’t cried, it’s just allergy. You will pretend to believe it and then you will stab the last stab.


I started walking ... slowly aimlessly ...

Up to a rock hidden in the waves of the sea ..

Losing my sense of direction .. And my heart ..

As if my soul wandered ..

In search of the life that slowly abandons me ...

The water calms my heart ..

But with each wave I feel that my soul is released from my body .. To reach that quiet place .. Hidden ... In my heart ..

But it can only do it by dissolving and regenerating itself ..

Sometimes love is also this ..

Getting lost ... Between loneliness and tears ...

Even through oneself and then find oneself with an infinite sweetness of a caress .. Of a touch ... That only those who have your heart can revive and awaken what really belongs to you ... Your life .. His sense .. your heart ...

But my life why don't you let my sweetness invade your heart ..

You who are simply life for mine ...
Between us it is like this,
we get lost and find ourselves.
We understand ourselves in the eyes of the other
and we never cease to be amazed.
Thoughts in perfect synchrony
minds tuned
and feelings in harmony.
Fragile, yes.
But strong in our choices.
We would have the ability to annihilate ourselves
but we are leaning on each other
and if one falls
the other also falls.
If you get sick
I will suffer like a trampled flower,
if I'm going to get sick
you will be like a street lamp that does not want to light up
and you will look for me in the dark.
So different
like heat and frost
so similar
like grains of sand.
And I'll come look for you
every time you get lost
and you will no longer find the way.
I will be that light
that will guide you home
and you will hear my voice
calling your name
and you won't turn around
but you'll know I'm behind you.
Hold me tight
hold me tight
because in the evening it is difficult to be alone
because without you
the world is a little less colorful.
And it will be enough to see us to understand,
no words
those are useless.
But every word will open our hearts more
they make it explode
they make him feel alive
that make it beat
very strong
until our stomach closes
until our legs tremble.
Everything is so clear.
Looks that sum up pages
hugs that contain tears
smiles that transpire thanks.
Only our limits contain us and give us the rhythm.
Like a heartbeat,
like a symphony.
Think with your head, always, do not let yourself be inculcated by anyone. Deconstruct every thought, every advice that is given to you, take it apart, look at it carefully and feel free to agree or not. Even if you value your interlocutor, disagreeing does not mean going against him, express your opinion if it is different from his. Talk. Try to understand. Don’t force yourself to do things that make you feel uncomfortable. Ask questions. Learn to say no. Develop your own ideas. Don’t be manipulated. Show your qualities. Don’t be conditioned. Educating means “pulling out”, not “putting in”. Follow yourself, interpret according to your intelligence. You are unique and wonderful, feel with your soul, feed your sensitivity, cultivate your passions. Learn more, be curious. There are no absolute truths. Have an ethics, a morality, have respect and then feel free. Nothing else is needed. You don’t have to please anyone. We are all different, we cannot have the same lives. You have the right to choose, choose to be happy.


Heart night.
Heart moon.
Mystery illuminated by the dream.
The thought tears. Every morning it opens one day.
It hurts to wake up.
Having to live in human sleep.
A bright and perky twin.
While you are still sleeping.
An efficient and hardworking twin while you laze in the sheets.
A slab of hearts.
I went in from the back.
Walking on the carpets with holes in them.
The rooster crowed.
The rain was coming.
Candles dropped from my eyes and the light touched my green irises, coloring the meadows of your feeling.
I have chosen not to participate in the life cycle but to remain in nature.
From your doors to my doors a hanging wire grows, almost a vine.
A darkly severed scene cut by a skeptical director.
That you want a happy ending is obvious but my end is always cynical.
Heart night.
Heart moon.
Mystery illuminated by the dream.
The thought tears.
Every morning it opens one day.
It hurts to wake up.
Having to live in human sleep.
A bright and perky twin.
While you are still sleeping.
An efficient and hardworking twin while you laze in the sheets.
A slab of hearts.



I watched that small, lonely piece of ash that had managed to escape from the fire that burned relentlessly, slowly turning the wood into simple and useless ash. It was still glowing, still bright orange, and rising slowly, skyward, and then … Poof. To disappear. It was a simple pre-Christmas evening, the people in the square, the fire lit near the Christmas tree, the songs that resounded in the main streets, the lights … Wherever you could breathe the air of celebration, wherever you turned you meet us looks happy and bright smiles. Children scurried along the sidewalks, competing to see who could get on the train first. I was there, in front of the lit fire, admiring the beauty of my small town, in the arms of those who, with a simple glance, could make me feel butterflies in my stomach. There was silence between us, we weren’t talking because there was no need: our intertwined hands, looks and smiles said everything; said it all the sweet kisses we exchanged, light and slow, which managed to drive me crazy in any case. I turned to look at him, and once again I lost myself in those hazel eyes, so bright and cheerful, so deep, in which I continually drowned, losing the strength and the will to resist. I ran my gaze on his face: from the eyes I looked on the nose, then on the lips, so beautiful to kiss, and on the cheeks, so soft and warm … I returned to rest my gaze on his eyes, which were now staring at me have fun, managing to get me a sincere smile, once again. I love. I love him immensely. It was the last thing I thought before I captured her lips and lost myself in a breathtaking kiss.
I am a person without balance, but I can keep calm in difficult situations, I can fix things in chaos. I like music and I know it. I could dedicate many songs to you, I already do. I like flowers, you don’t need to give me bunches of chips or crumpled cats. I have big eyes. I like books, I like reading and caressing them. Girls who like books are cute, they are more dreamers. I sleep a lot. It might be a flaw, but you sleep a lot too! We could wake up together, always. I like photos, I like taking them. I’d take lots of pictures! I like traveling. I would go anywhere, any place. And not everyone would, would they? I’m not afraid. We climb a mountain, we enter a dark tunnel from which we cannot see the exit, we enter an abandoned hospital at night, I am not afraid. It doesn’t take me long to get ready, at most an hour! Think of all those girls who go to the bathroom five hours a day before going out! I like tattoos. I would like to tattoo the world on me. Sexy! I leave the house even without makeup. I’m simple! I look beyond, I go beyond. I make war with my prejudices, I stop even in front of a crumb to understand what else is there. I see things, even the smallest, before others. I like motorcycles, I like racing. I like the sea and also the mountains. I know how to listen and I like to do it. I am a friend, a lover, a girlfriend. I could be many other things. I love poems. I love to write. I love you, choose me.
We often ask ourselves “What will I do without him?” and you feel lost, but I have a perfectly detailed answer to this question. First of all, my pride will allow me to remain standing. Head held high, eyes sharp. I will no longer make any pathetic speeches, I have understood that there is no magic word that can convince a person who no longer loves you to love you, on the contrary, while you will tell him that he is everything to you, that will be the very phrase that will convince him that he doesn’t want you. So I will remain impassive, I will walk away without a word as if I don’t care. I want to be remembered like this, with the doubt if I loved you or not. Doubts remain forever. One night you will think about it, you will look at the empty part of the bed and I assure you that you will think of me. I also hope to be dressed well that day, with my usual strong smile and that you will have some hesitation in leaving someone like me. Because yes, I’ve learned not to demean myself, not to think that the person I’m with is doing me a favor as if I were a dead weight. I always remember that I chose a man among many other men, never because “he can stand me / he is the only one who loves me / I feel alone”. And if the coli that I have chosen will go away I will return to my life. What will I do without him? I will return to my weekends with other friends, there is no doubt about that. On TV they will broadcast the films seen together and I will be taken by nostalgia. I will want to send him a message but I will not. I will write but not to him, I will write for myself. If he leaves me it is not true that I will not know what to do, I will create commitments. Life will go on, I’ll be studying or looking for work, at this age you can’t say that you don’t want to go to school because you are heartbroken, you have to get up and look for your autonomy, bring big sunglasses with you and stay in the midst of people as if nothing had happened. It happens, I’ll tell myself. It has already happened and it continues anyway. If she leaves me the next day, I’ll still be beautiful. If he leaves me I will read the sentences I have underlined from the books that have always helped me after the finished stories, if he will let me I will breathe again, if he will let me I will have more time for other things to do. Nothing too poetic then. “What would you do if he left you?” People make it too melodramatic. People say they would die from it but then the next day they are still there. People say they will never fall in love again and then fall in love again. People of this era then change status from “single” to “officially engaged” with incredible ease. People just like to say romantic phrases they don’t believe in, but I’ve never tried to be a sensitive person and so I’ll tell you that without him tomorrow I’ll get up at six in the morning and do what I do now, only at the evening I will not be able to tell anyone and I will miss that one, but one day I will not feel nostalgia for it anymore. I will find other people to tell it to. This is how it works even if at first it seems impossible for everyone. It works that one night you fall asleep because you are sleepy, and not because you have cried too much. It works that one day you will meet other eyes but you will still be too in love with the memories and you will let it go .. But trust me, that soon, someone will say something so interesting that you will start listening and falling in love again. It works that if he leaves you you live the same.


We love each other very much, it’s the only thing that comes to my mind because it doesn’t matter, it’s kept and played with them, it’s made in every way to ride! It doesn’t explain anything, I like you, you make me fucking good! I have never been so good with someone, I want to know you better, I want to see who you really are, I want to be able to hug you when I want without anyone talking about us, I want to be able to talk to you about everything, scratch you, kiss you a thousand Important to me, I want to be able to say hello as it should be with a nice kiss and not a simple hello when it happens, you are a fantastic person you have a world inside and I want to discover every corner of you, you and I are not friends, two who if we are guarded as guardians we will not be able just be friends, we will do everything possible, we will talk to them and we will not be with them .. I love my husband so much, and I love him so much, he alone with me. something that I don’t think I can manage, I’m afraid of suffering, of still being hurt and now of being sick another time I don’t want to, but I know one thing, you do me good yes you do me really good, please we let’s build something, beat these walls of fear and pride and become what we are not now.
Anxiety is your mood that changes in a matter of minutes. Anxiety means uncontrollable tremors and spasms. Anxiety is tears, it is real and painful tears. Anxiety is nausea. Anxiety is paralyzing. Anxiety is dark. Anxiety is having to find one excuse after another for your behavior. Anxiety is fear. Anxiety is worry. Anxiety drains your body and your emotions. Anxiety is raw. Anxiety is real. Anxiety means arguing with your partner even though you are not angry. Anxiety is a jolt at every slightest annoyance. Anxiety is made up of flashbacks. Anxiety is an “What if …”. Anxiety is full of “What’s wrong?” and I do not know”.
I had to understand that right away. When someone has a heart like mine, they end up dying before death itself. When someone has a heart like mine, the heart loses it, loses it in unspoken words, loses beats in sighs, loses itself as the tears flow and no one stops them. When someone has a heart like mine and gives it to someone, they never find themselves again.
I looked at it as you look at something you already know we will miss. Too good to last, to be true, too good to become a habit. I looked at it as you look at the sea at the end of summer, when the days become even clearer and the sun shines in the sky. I just looked at you, and you smiled at me. Do not forget certain smiles, certain looks and certain words.
Maybe one of us had to make a decision and maybe it was right that whoever was stronger among us made it. My psychologist once told me: “You can’t love the cause of your own destruction and your own suffering, it’s crazy!” I lost with you, but I won with myself.


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.


After about two months of forced distance, today I went back to walk in My Beloved park and it almost did not seem real to me that I could see with My eyes, My beloved trees and bushes that I have missed a lot, just like being in contact with Nature while I immerse myself in its colors and its unique smells that do so much good to My increasingly stressed and restless spirit. While I was walking rigorously accompanied by the pressing and unmistakable rhythm of My Beloved Music, the sun wide open on My face and the imagination at hand, I had almost the perception that everything suddenly stopped, as if these two months had never passed. actually existed, picking up where everything left off. The only difference is that this time I was wearing a mask, which contrary to what I expected, did not bother me particularly, as did the thousands of pollen scattered almost everywhere. They did not prevent me from fully enjoying that moment so long sought and uniquely Mine. Yet this time I began to let my mind pervade the various accumulated doubts and perplexities, to try to group them and let them escape. Now more than ever I feel the need to empty My Soul, like a trash can full of waste paper to throw away to make some space – and as I listened to the noise they made as they were thrown away, I began to feel a lot relieved, because they weighed on My imprisoned heart like a real boulder. The feeling of liberation I feel every time it happens cannot be described. I walk at a fairly high speed, I don’t want to exaggerate, I just want to walk, to enjoy that long-dreamed and desired peace, thus rediscovering the joy of doing something I love and that for a very long time I was not allowed to do, thus rediscovering it and loving it as if it were the first time. At a certain point on a bench I find a little girl sitting with the tool in her hand to be able to make soap bubbles, and immediately my childhood comes to mind when I also liked to do them. I am amazed that they still exist. Exactly like I did, you too love to blow into it to discover the effect it has. And just as it happened to Me, I was ecstatic to see on his face that veil of disappointment to discover that he had no possibility of command over them. The bubbles wander in the air without anyone being able to grasp them, and when they feel they have no air thrust, they go out by themselves. In short, they are without masters, completely free to fly and to choose as they want. So My life comes to mind and I think she is the same too, although she is Mia I feel I have no control over it, free to do and act as she sees fit, without ever deigning to ask me for an opinion at least. I can and must only accept what he proposes to do, thinking that whatever it is, he does it for My Good. For everything there is a why and I have understood that My Life intends to make me discover them little by little, without going around them so much, direct and straightforward as it has been from the beginning. However it is fantastic to be able to regain possession of My Normality, albeit with the right and due prudence. It was hard to leave when it was time to go home, maybe because I’m afraid I may have taken it off again, the very thought makes me tremble. I really hope it won’t happen, even if the imprudence of others does not give me hope! Better not think about it. Better to keep thinking about that soap bubble that wanders in search of its freedom, between memories and a lot of desire for redemption.

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