Memories, one of the things that causes the most mixed emotions.
Some people,
those who have lost everything,
can be kept alive by memories.
But is theirs a real life?
Or is it just fear of looking ahead, latching onto the past?
some feel it is better to delude oneself
and continue living in the past.
But what is the past in the present?
A ghost.
Something whose presence can be felt, but not seen.
A thing that haunts at night.
Something that is not well defined,
the limits of which we cannot focus on.
Something that is not easy to get rid of.
Ghosts are scary.


Eyes of the heart inside a ring,
They wrote sad words of sin:
The wrong time,
The wrong beat,
The wrong night It was raining and you were crushed.
The wind was deserted,
the night dark,
You had a thought that warmed up,
You took it with you inside the hotels of iron.
And then he came,
with a shadow in his heart,
devouring donuts,
devouring the dust of ancient houses.
You wanted to escape the grave,
and your rose was still alive.
Then the flower turned daisy yellow,
Wine had the last drop on his heart And the car went into the ravine.



It's a cold day inside of me today, I realized when I woke up, and the first thing I did was pull back the curtains and admire that beautiful sun.

He tried to warm me with his powerful rays but failed.

Today is one of those days where I think everything I do is in vain.

I've spent the last few years working on myself. To protect me from everyone.

And if I had opened that window some time ago, that sun would have warmed my heart, I would have noticed the lady who lives right in front of me, I would have noticed every detail. Like her blonde hair always in warp even after she just woke up. The way she observed passers-by but suddenly turned behind her and went away, I would have seen her go away to enter the kitchen, to help her husband who was asking for "help" for a failure in the TV remote control.

And I would have smiled.

I would have noticed the bits of dust floating in those bright bands of sun.

But I didn't see any of that this morning.

All I saw was my empty bed, worn out by a devastating night.

The pillow wet from the dramas, the sheets impregnated with mistakes, the book reread a hundred times on the bedside table full of burnt hopes.

I close my eyes for a moment and I see him, I see someone on my bed asking me to lie down with him, who between one caress and the next, every drama goes into paranoia and leaves the room. That between a kiss and a look, given this way, almost without thinking about it, I see a rose blossom on that bedside table, making that cigarette that stinks of regrets and wasted efforts disappear.

But then I open them again, look down and see only those tattoos on my arms that are there to never make me forget that certain battles are too difficult to win.

And I also smile, yes, because sometimes I really believe in the bullshit I say to myself to cheer myself up, that after three minutes, it has the same effectiveness as a television teleshopping, one of those with low budget.

That you see them, and you think “do they really think they make me believe that those knives are capable of cutting even a diamond?”.

And you believe it, you fake it.

Finally, I make my bed, change the sheets, arrange the books under the bed.

I dress.

And I wear it. In all its beauty.

With all its sweetness.

I wear a smile, and even for today, the outfit has been decided.

Embellished with uncertainties and mistakes, persistent paranoia and perennial anxiety that I carry with me as if it were my favorite necklace.


I can’t really explain the pain I feel. I can only tell you that I try to live but this life is really not for me. I swing from moments of extreme anger to moments when I have no reason not to throw myself off the balcony. road without hoping to be hit, I don’t light something without hoping to die from electrocution, I don’t take medicine without hoping to die of an overdose, I don’t smoke or drink without hoping that that substance will kill me. ‘is no one with whom I can share my weight.My head and body are so far apart, I have the heart that every second that passes an extra crack, I have a thousand thoughts that I try to escape but lethally devour me every part of I don’t see reasons for just another breath and the more in vain I try to find reasons not to go, the more the world or life gives me some to really leave. I try, but maybe for some life is not, I’m sorry to disappoint those who perhaps still believed in me. I can’t really stay, if they asked me why are you so sad? he is distant and I die waiting. I loved you, and how real are the tears that now would like to fall from my eyes, how real are my absent and dull looks, how real are panic attacks, how real is the commitment that I put into it, so it is always was my love for you or for you true. I leave my place in this life to someone else, I do not deserve or want to live it. I have become just an empty shell that walks and breathes. I died long ago, my soul died long ago. I’m not a princess, he won’t trigger him to save me, he really won the bad this time around.

My sensitivity is my gift and my cross. Where the many are barred, I am allowed to feel. I feel the shades of the soul and I see its colors. My wonder of a wildflower and I cry in front of the sea. I see no heart for the scar and no tears for tears. I feel joy and pleasure, pain and suffering. This is my gift, this is my cross. Music has taught me to be curious. A love cannot take something away from you. Those who say they sacrificed themselves for love make me laugh. Too bad for them. Fears are needed. It is not useful to chase them away. I’m afraid that fear will paralyze me one day. This yes. But it doesn’t just apply to me. It scares me that it could happen to anyone. ou, queen of few words, heal my soul. Let the darkness peacefully lull her into the day. Luminous Queen, common point between distant souls, let me free myself from the chains of distance that men have not yet been able to destroy. Let him be able to rock me one more night, and another. And if you can’t leave us together, enlighten us also tonight and cradle and our souls that meanwhile dance a nostalgic waltz on the edge of the precipice of human will. And let this dance be eternal. Let at least our souls be together, distant queen.


Long before the white man arrived,
in a Cheyenne village lived a little girl whose
name was Nuvola Fresca.
One day the little girl said to her mother, Last Evening Sigh: "When night falls, a black bird often comes to feed, pecks at pieces of my body and eats me until you arrive, light as the wind and chase it away.
 But I don't understand what all this is.
With great maternal love Last Sigh Of the evening reassured the little girl by saying: "the things you see at night are called dreams and the black bird that comes is only a shadow that comes to save you" Nuvola Fresca replied:
"But I am so afraid, I would like to see only the white shadows that are good".
Then the wise mother, she knew it would be cruel to close the door to the fear of her child, invented a round canvas with which to fish the dreams of the night, then gave the object a magical power: to recognize good dreams, that is, those useful for growth. spirituality of the little one, from the bad ones, that is, false and deceptive.
Last Sigh of the Evening built many dream catchers and hung them on the cradles of the children of the village.
As the children grew, they embellished theirs with expensive objects and gradually the magical power grew, grew, grew together with them ... Each Cheyenne keeps its own dream catcher for life, as a sacred object bearer of strength and wisdom.
Even today the Cheyenne Indians build a dream catcher every time a child is born in the village and place it on his cradle. With a special wood, very ductile, they shape a circle, which represents the universe and inside it a web similar to that of a spider. The cobweb will therefore be entrusted with the task of capturing dreams. If it is a question of positive dreams, the dream catcher will entrust them to the thread of the beads (forces of nature) and make them come true. If, on the other hand, he judges them negative, he will entrust them to the feathers of a bird and have them carried away far away, scattering them in the skies.


There are people you have known for a lifetime, who have no effect on you, and people you have recently known, who make you want to hear them all the time: they leave that smile on your face before going to sleep and with the knowledge that when the next day you will wake up, you will think about them. These people, I think are the best. In a short time they make themselves known better than anyone else. They manage to make you feel good with little, like no one ever has. They can make you smile and cry at the same time. They bring out the best in you, without doing much. Just a smile from them and that’s it: it’s like arriving in heaven without flying, all at once. You come up and no one can get you off anymore, no matter how good you feel. ‘Stè special people, they give you two or even three words, including trivial ones, and you spend whole nights thinking about it. Sleepless nights asking you questions. Sleepless nights waiting for some message from them, just to make you move a smile on your mouth, even if that is the last of the day, because then you sleep. These are the real people. These are the people you generally meet in the dark times of life and they cheer you up, like a coffee in the middle of the day, or a hot tea in the evening, when you are tired. There is no explanation. They just pick you up. They sit next to you and listen to you and it doesn’t matter if it’s day, night, sunrise or sunset. They don’t watch the hours. They listen to you and you finally exist.


I mean I’m not one who gives up… I mean, I’ve never done that. But as I was walking the other day, I thought back to my past. 2 years ago to be precise .. I was thinking of the person who introduced me to true love, the same person who then broke my heart in such a way that nothing would be the same as before. I thought and thought and all our promises, to the fact that I said to myself “at the cost of dying, I will not lose it” I thought of all the sacrifices I have made for her and how long I have waited for her. As I was walking, something stopped a whole stream of thoughts running through my head, and suddenly everything became clearer. It was time to close with the past … not because I had given up, but because the person I was was no longer there. And in my total awareness of an inner loss, I was tremendously happy. That boy was gone as he wished. With her by his side or with death. Luck wasn’t on his side… he fell, but he kept his promise. And I am happy, happy for this glorious loss. I was able to close a part of my life, my past. and now..what will the future bring me?
I grew up on it. The problem actually… is the technology. Facebook..the movies on TV..etc..see all the people who go out, turn the corner and find friends..this weighs on me every now and then. I can clearly feel the lack of this emotional trait. But on the other hand, I wouldn’t be able to be in big company. My normality is now part of me as much as I am part of her, what you call loneliness is just habit for me. I like to wake up in the morning, open the balcony to the sun. In fact, I learned that there is a lot of life and happiness here too. Once the balcony is open, the birds chirping, the wind in the trees and the smell of dew. God, I could never do without this. Everything is so alive in this desolate place.
It’s relative … now loneliness is part of me. I mean, I don’t call it loneliness anymore. it’s normal for me. When my friends came every now and then, they were bored to death, they did not listen to the birds, they did not smell the scent of trees and flowers, and they did not see the peace and harmony that surrounded them. rather! What I call peace for them is boredom and waste of time… so… it’s all relat
lately I feel that I belong nowhere and that I am not fully connected with any person. it seems to me that all of a sudden the people around me are strangers, people with whom I have nothing in common, with whom I have nothing to say and with whom I never feel 100 percent at ease. this makes me sad and I feel the need to find new people, people equal to me, who really understand me, with whom I can always be myself, however, it is so difficult, I am not good at relating, I am not good at making new friends and i am not able to take matters into my own hands because i always try to repress everything and not even try is what is best for me, i’m a bit of a coward and i know i will curse myself in the future but i just can’t do I change
Soon I will be back, perhaps stronger, perhaps weaker, and I will try to explain calmly and calmly what I have done and how I feel; now I just need not to think, because my thoughts scare me. I’d like to get distracted, find something to talk about that doesn’t make me uncomfortable, rediscover that strength to live that now unfortunately I lack. Thanks for the support you are giving me, thanks for the words, the phrases, thanks for everything. You are the only friends I have, and I truly thank you with my heart for staying close to me, for listening to me even when I don’t feel like talking, and for staying silent with me if I need to. I love you, really.


There are changes over time that make you think, make you look up and the desire to move forward with all your strength. Many times it is not easy, indeed, it is complex to look forward despite the pain that one carries in the heart, but life is a passing of time, and it is precious, so you have to love yourself completely, unconditionally, because it is right that it is so. To anyone who has a pain that leads him to stand up with his head held high, I congratulate you because it is not easy to face everything alone, especially when it is a pain that goes beyond all limits. We are all fragile souls, but there are those who manage to do all this with an inner strength that is to be envied. Never let your guard down, even the sunsets end every evening but they are a spectacle of nature. It is necessary to shine with one’s own light and this is the only way to find oneself.
She was weird, or maybe she was just different from other people. She was one of those people who didn’t speak, who tried to be close to everyone, but not to herself. Who helped everyone but did not allow himself to ask for help and no one ever understood why. Inside her there was everything, anger, hatred, love, sadness, relief, thoughts, words, melodies, the sea, the ocean, the spring sky, poetry, happiness, he had everything, but no one could see him. It was an unexploded volcano, inside it had everything, inside it had the universe but nobody knew it …
This period, this moment, is so difficult, I find myself in a situation that by now I know well, all too well, this sickening apathy, this gray that makes your head break, this desire to cry for no reason, this littleness, this feeling like this. insignificant. Yet now it’s different, or it should, now I know how to get up, a shower, friends, a bit of entertainment, and nothing goes by but at least I pay less attention to it. Instead, here I am wanting to hopelessly throw myself on the bed and do nothing else, drown myself in a sleep that numbs my thoughts, canceling everything until it passes. Ignoring who I wouldn’t want to ignore. Struggling with myself between what I know to be rational and what I would like. Wondering once again if I can do it, knowing the answer is yes but thinking it is no. Want to mess up. The worst part? Having to hold me back. Being forced not to isolate myself, having to keep myself up because I’m not physically alone, I can’t make it clear that I’m down. Worse still? Knowing they are just complaining. The knowledge that I should kiss my elbows, that there are people who are dying every day, by the thousands, alone, that there are people who are doing endless shifts feeling helpless. Then the future, this huge messed up nothing, that can’t take a shape anywhere, in any way, the many possibilities in which not even one seems to be the right piece of the puzzle, which I keep turning and turning, trying to fit it everywhere. , to no avail, to the point that I will probably pick one at random and break it in an attempt to match it with something that has nothing to do with its half, with the suitable continuum. The question always remains the same, why can’t I be different? Why do I always have to get complicated?


Night comes and bears your face. The most beautiful night, the clearest moon and the quietest woods. The night that is liberates and dark like you, but at the same time defenseless and bright. The night comes that brings confusion in me and into other tranquility: you always bring confusion. The night arrives that goes from zero to a thousand, from a thousand to zero, then quiet, then sound, rustle and flowing water. The night that, like you, is restless, unstoppable, tireless, but still wonderful!
It’s like I’m still a little child actually. The noises, the tastes, the smells, the sight and the touch are amplified, but so much that at times I seem strange (they probably are). When I eat something that’s done really well, and by good I mean when it almost makes your tongue melt at how good it is, I cry. I cry because I am moved, I cry because the taste is so good that I really feel happy in that moment. When I touch the leaves or branches of some plant I almost think I feel their essence inside me, I almost think I am one with nature. When I observe people’s eyes I try to capture their feelings almost obsessively, I work so hard that I often succeed. When I listen to music or just someone talking, it seems to me that something vibrates in me, as if my body changes as the pitch changes. The most beautiful thing of all is the way I look at things: with curiosity and passion, as if everything were beautiful, as if everything were new, even looking at the same things. I will be crazy, of course, but I am proud of this madness!
We listen to music because it is as if, in some way, it made us feel strong, with our backs covered, with our emotions protected. We listen to music because thanks to it, often times, we don’t need to talk, and other times just because we need to do it, but we can’t do it in any other way. We listen to music to tell ourselves a lot of mental lies and, sometimes, to be able to admit the truth to ourselves. We use music because among a thousand things that exist, music always understands us! It comforts us when we want to be comforted; it kills us when we already feel like corpses; it makes us happy when we need to be; it makes us sad when we cannot feel otherwise; it makes us nostalgic when it reminds us of particular events through words or sound. The thing that does music better, however, is to make us silent: it speaks when we are unable to speak, it silences us when we want to talk too much!

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