Proud people seem the strongest, but instead they are the ones who need affection most of all. They pretend to not care when a word is enough to hurt them, when they prefer not to say anything in order not to hurt their loved ones. They are the ones who would like a hug but are ashamed to ask for it.
They are the ones who have forged an armor with all the disappointments they have had over time, so that, later on, it will be more difficult for them to be hurt. 
They have armor that they believe is indestructible when a hug is enough to untie it or a kiss to break it. They are those who when they see someone happy are happy and sad at the same time, happy for their happiness and sad for not knowing that word on their skin. 
They are those people who keep everything inside for fear of ruining their image. For fear of being seen fragile or even crying because this is what happens to keep everything inside.
 If you try to get rid of your frustrations you will end up crying, and as a proud person you would rather die than be seen crying. All they seek is affection, but they are unable to ask for it.


The broken lines of the hand could mean nothing or make sense of everything, grief separations, nervous breakdowns, dismissals, resurrections, sudden showers; in the same way, bad dreams would be an effect and perhaps a cause of frustration anguish states of anxiety widespread unhappiness ideological disruption skin aging who knows. Meanwhile, the day is crowded with fatal signs, a bug crouched in the boxers a bad coffee an expired yoghurt a failed parking an undelivered message mouse feces on the balcony. Money is scarce friends shortage lovers in the cinema do nothing interesting the theater is dead the tickets for the stadium are not found the centralized antenna is malfunctioning the telephone battery is gone like the timing belt the mass air flow sensor the pump oil, summer is over it always ends the days are always written earlier, the doctor who should help heal asks for help is confused surrendered does not know what to say is powerless knows he is, the lines of the hand are broken they always have been they cannot be fixed , dreams have already been dreamed are films already seen the script is sloppy they cannot surprise, time does not flow rather it accumulates sits on surfaces like dust, the end is written and decided it was written long before it all began, stay just waiting.


If only I could walk
between the chiaroscuro of your irises,
light up my days
with the lights of your every memory,
if only I had the key
of that French garden
which makes the contours of your face
guiding breath for each completed painting;
if only i could stay there,
stop, hold out your hand,
waiting for your name,
your veins like purple wisteria,
your skin like peony petals,
and listen to the rhythm of your beats outside the heart,
touch the shores of the lake
and make them tremble
in the reflection of the other shore where I wait for you to blossom and we are alone on a branch of blue star flowers. 


You counted a hundred thousand steps to get nowhere, you thought numbers were important, but the only thing that matters is not knowing where you are going. Sometimes you want to feel part of something, part of someone, other times you like being alone, feeling too much, on the other hand the world is a giant shoe but with the wrong size. You may turn around just to feel the taste of nausea, until you throw up the bundle of reality and admit that you are a dreamer and can’t sit still. They say that beautiful things do not last long, and how to blame them? if a rainbow lasted more than a quarter of an hour who the fuck would look at it anymore ?. You think it’s convenient to delude yourself, and think that things will never change, but every season the skin peels off and the only thing you can do is keep crawling. We hate being habitual, because habits start slowly and long before you realize you have a habit, it is the habit that has you.


I’ve seen people leave my life without even apologizing for the inconvenience. Then I saw other people sitting quietly on a bench waiting for me to notice they were there for me. I met people who just met made me think “I could never share time with someone like this” and became the most important people in my life. There were those that I liked at first glance and they then showed me, along the way, that it was just superficiality and mistake. Those people I judged negatively only because they didn’t convince me, or because they didn’t think like me on many and many topics and then, they taught me that, despite the differences, people know how to be beautiful precisely because they are “different” . I met someone who made me say with conviction “I will never forget you again”, but after a couple of years I no longer wondered where they were and how they were, not out of malice, but because sometimes it just happens. And then I met those who traveled only a little way with me and in the end embarked on their path, different and distinct from mine and has remained with me even today. Because life is a way to go. You will meet many faces, some will simply remain so, others will be much more than this.
In a moment of time, my life took a break. She relaxed and focused on the world around her. It was all chaotic and peaceful at the same time, like calm water in the open sea and destructively marvelous crashing against the rocks. And that was how I felt that sentimental gash; I felt like a hot wind breaking on my skin, it was the steam that the old train was expelling from the fireplace, while its engine was revving and pawing, it made its way into the walls of my heart. A crust by now settled there was to protect it, a really hard crust, behind which there was hidden a roaring and pounding heart like that train. That crust, under that warm wind of steam, began to weaken, and the vibrations of the engine cracked it. The future refused to answer his questions, however, telling him that he had to focus on the present, do what he felt without looking away.
It’s all so fleeting, volatile Speed ​​is relative, pure mental perception Time, the only constant of everything. Therefore learning through attraction complexes is nothing more than a distraction of the space-time perception of the present around. If there is interest in an unknown girl, but present in the present, it is good to express it, against any reaction. Imperturbability is the ability to have firmness of mind. This, combined with the passage of time, puts up resistance to this, however, releasing awareness of actions and consequences. This is to say that if you find a girl you like, don’t mind talking to her. Don’t let time try to unite you, because time will do nothing like that for you, no one.


I've never felt sorry for people who decide to be alone. I do not find it an example of cowardice, not as much as I do not see it in those who would instead get together with anyone in order not to deal with loneliness. I have always been of the idea that being alone is beautiful, it is liberating. As I return home, in my beautiful solitude and silence after yet another chaotic day, I take off my shoes I untie my hair I sit on the sofa and stare at a point in the dark entrance in front of me. It is perhaps the truest moment that I live in contact with who I am. Me and my thoughts, and my reflections on what I did, on the contracts concluded, on the clients I met, on the mistakes I made. I should have been more rigid with the people I met this morning, I should have been more resolute in addressing that issue in the afternoon. I stay on the sofa with my legs on the table in the center, and the only sensation I have is of the skin in contact with the glass. Beautiful loneliness, as you think about how many are around right now having conversations with someone they don't even listen to the words of. After all, I'm almost happy. My tired legs and I, thank you for having decided to return, without further stops for aperitifs, inaugurations or dinners. Without effort, naturally back to live in the moment, of this moment.


Last, hanging dreams

We often say phrases like “I hope to forget all this soon” but, in hindsight, is it okay to forget?

Let's imagine we have a huge red button behind the neck with the inscription “Reset” engraved, will we be able to press it?

At the end of it all, is it okay to forget?

It is normal to want to forget the abuses, the sufferings, the scars on the skin, the grudges, the fears but we are the result of everything that has happened to us, good or bad, we will be really ready to give a damn about who we are and who are we to do a complete reset of everything and become amoebas without memories and without a past?

We think that by erasing all bad memories we would live happier, we will be better people. But is it really so?

By eliminating everything we will also throw away all that happiness we had "thanks" to our suffering, everything we have learned would become useless because it would not be followed by experience, like theory without practice.

Imagine meeting the girl of your dreams or the guy you even want to have with you for the rest of your life and all of a sudden an anonymous you from the future shows up who can't reveal his identity and tells you to let it all go and to flee with high legs. Would you listen to him? And if he told you that it is from this person that you will receive the greatest disappointments, at that point would you believe him?

I do not think so, I personally if someone told me so I would be even more eager to start that relationship.

If you, like me, didn't listen to it, do you know why you wouldn't?

For a simple reason: you do not have the adequate experience to understand what will happen in two months, a year or more.

Is it really worth erasing the memories?

Will we really be happier? 

In my opinion we will get on a carousel from which we will no longer be able to get off, making the same mistake again, again, again and again.

Forgetting does not eliminate suffering but increases it exponentially, up to infinity.


So ready to disappear
I was
so featherweight
and apologize to the skin
with every dust of air
for undue occupation,
so impressed by the transparency
I was
to make glass
to dazzling mornings
and smell of wave
between propped bodies.
So strictly useless
the soul
to keep it green next to it
in the long course of the so-called
without any unhinging
of speech.
"Then? Then?"
I slipped out
in hard peel
world skin,
I make a silence
on evil,
a cloak
of insolent beauty
I cannot command
this flow
it is a great work
of clear yield
with a majestic current,
I am a word to the light
I was born.


The human being is divided into two parts: one he knows and the other he has to meet. And when the latter arrives, it is easier than you think to understand that in those eyes, in those lips, in that smile, there is the other half. You feel it on your skin, in your veins. You feel your heart beating, you feel a strange interest in that person you just met, but so attracting attention that you don’t understand why. And when you begin to create a real relationship, made no longer of looks, but of constant dialogue, you understand that you cannot separate from your person. Because once they are reunited it is as if each fabric is glued back together, found again. Every muscle, every organ, inextricably linked.
Once in a lifetime, something happens. The meeting of two souls who, despite having been apart for a long time, have never really been separated. In fact, only once in my life, I found Love, and it happened at the exact moment I met your eyes. I understood that distances are not real, because all that is most real is our being, very distant from what we see only with the eyes, or that we perceive only with the senses and interpret with our mind. There is something beyond any kind of rationality, and love is the only way to understand it. Once in my life, I met you. But for how many lifetimes we will still meet, always in the same place, that place without time or space. Where our eyes will still recognize each other and the doors to infinity will open.
You never let go of your hands, you hold tight, with eyes cast down to others, and it’s an ocean, girl, that silence of yours, and it’s beautiful blue waves, messages of love in a bottle of precious crystal. They are in the courtyard. You are a boat in the middle of the sea. And they laugh, rumor new loves, and they are enough, and they talk to each other, lowering their voices, getting closer, when they look at you, in that corner only yours, while you smile at the ants, without ever being able to see you. Your pain is the ocean, fragile girl, and they would drown, believe me, in your great sea, in your glaring depths, in the wonderful invisible world that you are. Let them believe, therefore, that you are left out, that you are the excluded, that they are together, that you are alone, desperately alone. Let them believe, twin flame! I feel like hugging you, even if I don’t know you, even if I’ve never seen you; hug you and tell you that everything is fine, that we are the ones together, even if together, due to time and space, we have never been there. Yet, that corner was mine, once upon a time, and no one, besides us, has ever noticed all that sea, all that deep, this boundless ocean of ours!

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