I HAD ANOTHER BLOG

I thank you for your closeness and your support. I believe that our freedom will never go back to the way it was before and that now we are the only ones left who know what it is. I see people very happy to be slaves. I see that everyone watches TV and believes in the mass media, they are manipulated and diverted. The dark mind is now mush. I am very sad and in the past I was an artist but now I am dying. I had an art blog with my paintings, I didn’t sell anything, I gave them away. I said that if nobody wanted them I would burn them. I have no real friends here, I didn’t know who to give them to. I wanted to leave them on the street but there was the covid and they would have thrown them away. I said I was missing, that I would burn them, and nobody told me anything. Nobody cared about what I created. I studied art in London, I refused recommendations, I refused a career. I regretted it. One day I wrote to a psychologist who had an association, I told him: “I give you my paintings, they are 50, you sell them and use the money for sick children”. Do you know what he answered me? “You are not famous, you do not get anything out of your paintings.” I regret having rejected my career. And so I burned all my paintings. My artistic blog no longer exists and there are few paintings left in my attic, eaten by mice.
I had a blog with 3000 followers. I said very interesting and important things but people weren't there. There were a lot of them but none of them spoke. I was really disappointed. I wrote very important things but somehow there was no dialogue between them and me. This made me very sad and one day I deleted everything, I deleted the entire blog. These 3,000 people got lost. I don't know if they still exist, I don't know if they looked for me, because I also changed my nickname because I wanted to close with the past, I wanted a new page in my life. But I believe that past has remained and always remains glued to me like a dark shadow.
I was very sorry to close that blog but maybe people didn't expect a woman to talk about certain things. I didn't talk about nails and I didn't talk about actors, not even about cooking, or about many other subjects that women love. I don't regret what I did but a piece of my life has been lost, destroyed, erased.

I HAD ANOTHER BLOG

My blog was born as an artistic space but nobody cares about art. I also had a blog with all my works but it didn’t matter to anyone. I also said that I would burn my paintings but no feminist or association said a word. I have no friend or I would have given them all as a gift, as I did some time ago. I never wanted to make money with my art. For me it was just a way to vent my pain. And also my paintings and all the things I did. Now I’m tired of creating useless things. Nobody cares about my life. I could be dead and no one would notice. People got bored with me. My German Shepherd puppy gives me more satisfaction than a lot of fake people. There was a user who wrote to me that “HUMAN GENDER IS GOING TOWARDS A POSITIVE EVOLUTION” So then he called me a pessimist. So apparently it is only I who now see the human disaster where it has come. Maybe everyone else is blind. So I take a step back and leave all this scum to their positive evolution and I step aside and think about my own business. It is not a defeat but every now and then you have to take a break. What I was doing was important to you, to me and to some haggard whore. For the rest, everyone was there to comment with monosyllables and smilies at the end. No dialogue. See, this is my trouble. I am sociable, still too sociable, and I expect to have a dialogue with people. But some believe me to be superb, pretentious, dominant. And all this because I had different life experiences from theirs. Then some when they know that I am not looking for money they almost consider it an affront. As if having money you can live well. On the other hand, they do not understand that inner well-being cannot be bought with money. I can have it all but I still don’t heal. My heart no longer exists. I live only for my son and my husband. Only for them. For me to exist or not to exist is the same. I don’t differentiate between life and death, they are just two different types of energy but the source is the same. I have lived with such strong emotions and even ecstasy you know, mystical ecstasy, seriously. And then? I have never used drugs, I have never taken anything, not even opiate drugs or psychiatric drugs. For my anxiety I use a simple tranquilizer, which I only lose if I have severe anxiety attacks. I have a very normal life: husband, son, dogs, cats, garden, swimming pool, vegetable garden, cellar, … I don’t drink and I don’t smoke. Never caught anything strange or poisonous. I have had friends who are alkist and sadistic artists as well as ordinary artists. My inspiration came only from my pain. My fantasy originated only from my pain. The pain of abuse lasts for a lifetime. I used my pain to do good to others. I am at peace with myself. I wanted to help other people but I couldn’t. If people want to listen to Chiara Ferragni’s advice, let them listen to her. People have the right to choose. I don’t want to save anyone anymore. What happens will happen. I had to stop in every sense. The pain resurfaced. There are bad dreams, bad things about my unconscious memories that come back to the surface. But I’ll be fine, I’ll continue to paint trying to keep the shadow of my executioner away. But I don’t want to talk to people anymore. They don’t deserve my words.

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