TAKING YOUR TIME

I was a girl with many dreams before, now I’ve lost them somewhere, not knowing who I am anymore. I was a shy girl, but now completely apathetic. My hair was long and always in the wind, now red and always tied up. I used to have beautiful fair skin, but now it’s scarred. My green eyes were always bright, now empty and dull. I was not very afraid, now I’m afraid of my reflection, like a child who is afraid of the monster under the bed. Now I’m just ashes. It is horrible to be homesick for yourself, for your own energy. When you look in the mirror and think, “Damn what happened to me?” “I was a completely different person. I realized that actually people don’t give a damn about knowing you, they don’t care who you are, they just want to feel less alone. They use you as a stupid stopper to fill the moments of boredom, of emptiness, which is there when you need it, which is forgotten when you have better things to do. Maybe that’s why I can’t trust people, maybe that’s why when I’m around people I feel like a fish out of water. We may look the same, it probably is. The change is not visible, at least not to most of us, but we have changed. Completely. Forever.
This period, this moment, is so difficult, I find myself in a situation that I now 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 throw myself hopelessly on the bed and do nothing else, drown myself in a sleep that numbs my thoughts, canceling everything until it passes. Ignoring who I don’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 make it fit 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? A lifetime of being told “you are never as person x”, we have always thought about this, we have all felt different at least once. I understood that it is better “not to be like someone”, “never like someone”. It is us, it is ourselves. Children, young and old, we are perfect. We have lived like crazy, we are living like crazy. Everyone lives in his own way, who lives as a madman, as a moralist, as an arrogant, as a bigot or as a frustrated one. We are the result of what we have around us. Each of us lives different and unrepeatable experiences that enrich us and make us wonderful. All people have stories … not just one. We never allow anyone to underestimate or belittle us. Because all of us, despite adversity, are the sun … and the sun never stops shining.

LUNATIC GIRL

I love myself as I am.
With strengths and weaknesses.
Black days and rainbows.
Paranoia and insecurities.
Crooked moons and bipolarity.
Logorrheic and despotic.
Break boxes and always on his.
But above all, always myself.
She was no ordinary woman, one with a nice pair of legs, a nice breast, a nice butt or a particular face, I don’t even know if she was really aesthetically beautiful. She had the wrinkles of her years, of her experiences, an angular character, she was complex, almost shy, twisted … Yet she was so beautiful in her doing, in her love, in her infinite being. In everything he did you found hidden all his charm, he had on him the wild scent of freedom, dreams, concreteness, passion. She was not perfect, on the contrary she was moody, at times unpleasant and yet, in every defect, in every excess there was the essence of her being “perfect” because “bastardly sincere”. No, she was definitely not an ordinary woman, her heart extended towards infinity, infinite as the sea is, as the universe is and as deep as the ocean. Yes, he had all the wrinkles of his years, that stubborn, almost unshakable character, he didn’t mince words, often beaten down but never defeated. It was enough for itself, it made sure it was enough. Life had “given” her a lot of tears, but she went on finding a way to dry them by herself. Yes, she was a woman, complicated … a tangle of woman. Call her beautiful? Yes, beautiful, complex and mysterious She had to be stripped from the inside, taken and dragged without asking too many questions, because too many questions would not be answered in words. She had a head, heart and soul and she wasn’t a nice pair of legs, a nice breast. Although she was “nothing special” … she was extraordinary with those who entered her heart and put her heart, strength and passion into everything she did.
I have a difficult character. Too proud, perhaps too moody. I hardly feel anything and if someone goes away I go away too without asking for explanations. I could not bear the idea of ​​submitting myself or depending on someone, first of all there is me. I’ve lost so many people and I’ve earned a reputation for being heartless, but I feel my heart … at night when I’m alone and it’s the saddest sound I’ve ever heard. But I hide it. I hide my emptiness, my good side, my desire to love. I am myself only when I want and above all with whom I want!

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