WE ALL HAVE FEAR OF SOMETHING

Since childhood, they feed our fear by telling us that we must not color outside the drawing, we must not go outside the lines, we must behave well otherwise we will be punished. So we are scolded, psychologically attacked, put back in line as if we must necessarily follow that path without the possibility of going further, even if we need more. 
This process occurs in all classes and for each child. Those who do not respect him are made to leave the classroom, are expelled, eliminated from school and from society. When I read posts in which it is said to abandon fear then I think about how much it has been rooted within us and how difficult it is to reprogram our mind that for years and years has only received directives to always live immersed in fear. 
So it is not easy one day to start doing things that have never been done, to start thinking that you can have a completely different life from the current one. Somehow that fear they instilled in us made us sure of ourselves, of our life, of our way of being. But where did it take us? It brought us into a house, unhappy, into a job, unhappy, into a family, unhappy, into a life that perhaps could have been different if we hadn't been brainwashed as children. Then starting to eliminate fear is difficult but not impossible. 
Doing something new is difficult but not impossible. Should we try? Certain. Follow other examples to help us understand how? Of course yes!

Sometimes we turn back to look at our past and ask ourselves: why did we make that choice? Why did we choose that person? Why didn't we do that thing? Sometimes we don't recognize ourselves. Who we were? Why did we act that way? What prompted us to make always wrong or harmful choices for ourselves? Do we now have a clearer picture of our life and of that process that educated us to be afraid of everything?

They put us in a cage of duties towards the family, of obligations towards society, a series of stakes and limits that must never be crossed, with the fear always on us of doing the wrong thing, of not being able, of not being able to do it. nothing if certain things happened. Often blaming ourselves, our heart, our mind, our way of being. Why have our teachers, professors, our schools done all this? Why did they want to make us so fearful and dissatisfied?

They locked us in a cage of fixed ideas and who gave them permission to do this? Our parents. But did our parents know what would happen to us? Maybe not. They too are not aware of what happens in schools where the fear of living is created. They too have not been able to live freely because they too have been diverted since childhood. They had to accept everything without being able to oppose it and it is now too late for them. but for us? Is it late for us too? I hope not.

You went to school, you were good, obedient, you studied a lot, you accepted everything and now? What do you feel now? Are you satisfied with what you have done? Do you feel free? Are you happy with what you have achieved? Is true well-being a home, a family, a life within the borders, within the limits drawn by other people, by educational institutions, by the government? 

STORY OF THE ORIGINE OF SUICIDE

Prof: I'll ask you a question: why do you think humans are often led to suicide?
X: because it has too many problems.
Prof: and why do you think he has these problems?
Me: because of the company.
Prof: how sorry?
Me: the company. In my opinion this is the cause of all the losses that have occurred in recent years.
Prof: and here you are wrong. Take a person with depression for example, he kills himself because it is the depression that leads him to do this.
Me: yes ok, here we are, but before thinking about depression, wouldn't it be appropriate to think about the causes of all this?
X: in what sense?
Me: have you ever wondered why a person often resorts to suicide? Take this person suffering from depression for example: at first he had a good job, a house, a wife, children, everything in short. One day he is summoned by the director of the company where he works to inform him that due to various problems, unfortunately, layoffs are underway and among these there is also his name. Initially, the man remains a little upset but in the end he thinks that in one way or another he will find another job to feed his children. So he strives to find it. A day goes by and nothing.
Two days and nothing.
Three, nothing.
Four, nothing.
A month goes by and still nothing.
Children need things for school. The clothes for the holidays, because you know, we are boys.
The refrigerator is empty.
The bills are payable.
And that's where the real problems begin. The wife has her own needs. Children are teased at school because of their clothes, their worn out pens.
At that point, man feels a prisoner of hunger, of the desire for money, of the fear of a still uncertain tomorrow.
The wife leaves him.
The money isn't there yet.
There is no light at home, no water, no electricity.
The children do not speak to him. Friends despise him or at least treat him as if he were junk.
The man is alone.
He drinks.
It gets drunk.
He's out of money.
Society doesn't help him.
Friends don't care.
The children hate him because it is only because of him that they are targeted by their peers.
He falls into depression, a severe depression.
Is tired.
Alone.
Weak.
He kills himself.
This is what society is. We are society and if today the word "society" is synonymous with "suicide" the fault is ours alone.
Prof: exactly

STORY OF A TRIP

I was wondering “I, for example, why did I want to become a writer?
Indeed, for what reason the writer himself? "
I looked for the deep memory that was to be connected to this choice, one of those that embodies the moment of the "crossroads". I remembered my high school literature teacher who said he had to leave a mark or, perhaps, I made up this memory; probably, I was just someone who, like all the deluded kids of my TV generation, had found a job with which to become famous.
At the time, for TV, they were the footballer, the showgirl, the singer, the actor, the actress, the presenter, which was a bit of a sociological thing, indeed, precisely, it was often a real "sociological consequence", such as for those of the generation before ours, that of our parents who, after Apollo 11, all wanted to be an astronaut and the girls, on the other hand, all wanted to become dancers, probably because they saw the first true female freedom on one black and white screen.
Plastic dreams that smell like food until you start biting into them.
Generations and generations of astronauts and dancers, of footballers, of actresses and actors, of volleyball players thanks to Mila and Shiro, of dreams that have often been broken and that have not been realized.
Now there is another screen, full of colors, to always carry with you: now there is the internet, the phenomena of the web, the InstaStars, the TwitterStars, the fashion bloggers, the influencers and us who often do not we don't even have an influence on our life.
I wondered what this dream pursued over time of wanting to be a writer was, I wondered what it had brought in my pocket to follow it until then.
That day I had practically reached the breaking point of my life where it is as if I woke up to look underneath my dream in the drawer and saw that it said IKEA. 
The stimuli to write my first real book, in fact, had been lost, faded over time and, frankly speaking, after this dismissal at the hotel I was no longer even convinced if I had really been cut out to be a writer.
I had written the book “17 years, in the summer” which had sold a good number of copies, it sells some now and then even now. I had published it at 19 only because a publisher had smelled the scent of easy money for the "kids" target, but I am still ashamed of most of the text, since then I have only published articles in music magazines and my very first book , the one heard, the one on which you spit blood and sweat I had not yet written.
That book published as a teenager, on the other hand, was about revenge, drugs, alcohol, identity research at the end of school, but it was only a summer love story with the usual late-adolescent problems; reading it now would perhaps even be a bit ridiculous, perhaps even 12-year-olds wouldn't read it now. Many of those teenage problems, socially speaking, are over now, or at least they want to believe they are, because perhaps it is most of adolescence now that seems over. Now, adolescence seems more like a very early adulthood, there is a too strong gap between childhood and adulthood, or at least much faster, some things, some actions, even some mistakes must be made in the "wrong age" "Right; this was the basis of the book with which I raised some money to round up: "If you smoke a joint at 10 instead of 15, if you already fuck at 12 instead of a few years later, if you don't enjoy some things before you know how to enjoy others, then you skip the steps too much, my friend. "
There was such bullshit about this book published at just nineteen.
It is true that I still think so briefly, but with the maturity and non-pride of thirty, at this moment, I know that I am nobody to tell you how you should live your adolescence or your life, therefore of that book, the I repeat, I am ashamed, even if they are right things they do not reflect respect for others and this is worth much more. However, if a story is written in a certain way, even at seventeen and published at nineteen, it can be enjoyable for those who are going through those problems and emotions and also for those who want to remember them.
However, without the purity of time in recounting the events of the protagonists, that book would certainly not have sold more than copies equal to the number of my aunts who, even if buying it, would still have complained about the fact that I had not given it to them at Christmas.
Maybe it's that I was no longer hungry to write, maybe I worked too many years in that hotel among the rich, maybe I bought too many useless things, maybe I should find a good girl by my side and stop being infatuated with those a little more crazy, but I don't even want one that, as they say, “Where do you leave it”.
Leaving the hotel behind me, I said to myself: “Maybe I should send everything to that country and take a trip. Yes, a trip.

COMING HOME FROM HOLIDAYS

I love coming home after the holidays. Because at home, I will be able to sleep peacefully without neighbors who shout late on their balcony. In my house I can swim without sharing the pool with other people. But above all I will be able to see my treasures, my loves, my wonderful puppies: Valkirya and Spritz. I love coming home from vacation because my home is the most comfortable place for me, the place where I have all my things in their place, and I always find them.

And here we are back home. We look around and see books, exams, school, work, which have been waiting for us all summer long. We went to the beach, we laughed, we ran, we practiced sports that we will never do again, we made new friends, found old ones, found new loves, we had so much fun, so much to forget, we sometimes drank too much, sometimes too little, we slept, we saw the sun rise and we saw the stars fall, we saw village festivals, heard religious choirs and stadium choirs, we listened to music too loud. We made promises we didn’t keep, we went out of windows and balconies because the doors were too loud, we sang and danced. We brought out the best in us !!! But, after having lived all this, with what desire do you sit back in a chair, grab a pen again or put on your tie again? The smile is always on the lips and if the memory is so funny it also happens that you escape a laugh, the distraction is at least in my case it is always lurking. Yet I can not hate the book in front of me and which in theory is separating me from the last days of summer. Oh no, because even if for now this seems a difficult task to face I understand, or rather I force myself to believe that all these efforts will lead to something one day. And then you know, without the bitter, my friend, the sweet is not so sweet.

Every trip is an experience and no experience is ever useless, everything serves to teach you something if you have the patience and the ability to receive the message. Goodbye, sea, until I know how to better appreciate what you have to offer, see you the day when I will be able to enjoy your beauty without looking for it elsewhere and your rhythms without suffering its slowness. The holidays officially end today for me. Ok, I’m lucky that I’ve had several days at home, of course, but tomorrow we go back and say that I don’t have half of starting over even comes close to describing the little desire I have to resume. But you have to. In spite of some colleague objectively, humanly and professionally useless, of the various problems and of everything that concerns working, I am well aware of my luck. Except that experiencing my ideal life, that is the perfect tourist, for two weeks has a negative side: that I get used to it. Netflix, cats, reading, time to do whatever I can think of … in short, the perfect life that I would give myself if I could not have to work. But I’m not rich enough, so we’re always there, back to square one. Tomorrow we start again. Once I got angry and struggled like a fish already caught on a hook that tries anyway and pathetically to free itself. It’s different now. Now I am resigned. The life I want, I can’t have it. Like almost everyone in the world, so shut up.

Two weeks went by like hours, but it took me a lot, it took a lot. I took my mind off everything as it hadn’t happened for some time, I focused on us, on our little holiday, on the holidays and on the family. And I understood many things, I think we have grown on all fronts, first of all the importance of having you by my side and the desire for a life together with you. Because it is true that after all this time a sentence like this seems almost banal, but you are a little bit my compass, you are my point of reference for everything. And no, maybe we won’t be perfect, (I have the big nose, you have the hips, because that’s what really matters!), But I love a little more even in the same since you are here. You made me discover a new world, you made me a child again and at the same time we are growing up together. And beyond everything, my life is perfect, complete since you are here.