WHAT IS PAIN FOR?

Pain. How many people does the pain weigh on the shoulders, stomach and head? How many people are there who would like to eliminate it from their life? But they tell us that it is useful, that suffering helps to understand life, to know others and ourselves. Would we be the same if we hadn’t subjected so much? Would we be so sensitive? Would we be so in need of love? What pain did it give us? The light. The light to see where the darkness was and where we were stuck. The light to see where we went wrong and how to move forward. Pain is our light. We can now see in the dark.

 

BLACK SHIP DOESN’T SCREAM

Some things can’t be explained, they just happen. Walls become invisible, secret passages are discovered that lead to enchanted places, downhill roads and beautiful eyes look at you in another way, which are discovered, leaving souls free to capture. Two people find themselves starting to walk a notch above everyone, on a level road whose only obstacle is themselves. I, who can find the negative side even in the right, beautiful, beautiful things, I am not a bearer of light. I live instead in the darkness, in the maze of a glorious past, of golden years that I will never relive, stardust scattered in the sky. it is no longer a question of finding a solution to the mistakes I have made, but a way to rise from those I will commit, always the same, always the same, I will never change. there are mechanisms that are now embedded in my brain and only great inner revolutions will be able to scratch them, revolutions that I do not feel will happen soon. upheavals. like first love. my dealing badly with things starts from there or even from before. I’m not a positive, but that’s not it either. remote traumas still manage to manipulate today’s behaviors. and I can’t open up, I feel that no one is worth it, I don’t even try, I act so hard but in reality it’s all a continuous breaking, a preventive fragility. how do you heal from something that makes you breathe and is so ingrained in you? Something that gives you the only creative power to survive pain. How you heal from something you have in the ventricles of the heart. I always look to the sun, but only God knows, how much I am a timid moon.
I, who can find the negative side even in the right, beautiful, beautiful things, I am not a bearer of light. I live instead in the darkness, in the maze of a glorious past, of golden years that I will never relive, stardust scattered in the sky. it is no longer a question of finding a solution to the mistakes I have made, but a way to rise from those I will commit, always the same, always the same, I will never change. there are mechanisms that are now embedded in my brain and only great inner revolutions will be able to scratch them, revolutions that I do not feel will happen soon. upheavals. like first love. my dealing badly with things starts from there or even from before. I’m not a positive, but that’s not it either. remote traumas still manage to manipulate today’s behaviors. and I can’t open up, I feel that no one is worth it, I don’t even try, I act so hard but in reality it’s all a continuous breaking, a preventive fragility. how do you heal from something that makes you breathe and is so ingrained in you? how do you heal from something in your head and above all that only you know? I always look to the sun, but only God knows, how much I am a shy moon.

 

RISE FROM THE BOTTOM

They say that when you reach the bottom you can only go up, but that’s not true, you can start digging with your bare hands and reach an even deeper place, even more dark and painful. But if you survive, if you find the strength to raise your head and rise from the abyss of suffering, then you will be able to see your strength and rejoice because there is no turning back. Nothing and no one will ever have the strength to bring you back to the bottom, and thanks to this you will be able to face the next obstacles with your head held high because no problem will appear greater than what you have already experienced and overcome.
Psychology states that you shouldn’t expect anything to feel good. Everything that happens to us must be a surprise. If a person sends us the “good morning” the following day we don’t have to wait for it again. We can’t get used to things, much less to people. If we consider events as surprises and never as expectations, we are happier.
Don’t settle for it. Don’t give yourself to the first one to pass. Do not prefer the easy things, in the end they always last a short time. And don’t be afraid of the difficult ones, difficult things are not for everyone, love is not for everyone and you are also not for everyone. Don’t settle for nice words, you need presence and constancy. Remember that to make a person happy you don’t need gifts or constant promises, you have to make them feel important, every day. Forget the one who betrayed you, but without ever being ashamed of trusting him, he should be ashamed of having betrayed her. Forget the speaker behind you, his place is right behind you. Forget those who are not honest with you. Don’t worry about it, don’t try to understand what they think, you can never really know what someone thinks, but you can understand a lot from how they behave and how they treat you. Believe in yourself but never put yourself above others. Intelligence is questioning yourself and not others, that’s just fear. If you are satisfied with the wrong people, unfortunately it is only your fault and it is you who must correct your mistakes, it is you who must learn to give people the same importance they give to you. the difficulties do not come if they make you lose your patience, but if they make you lose your desire, and if you are with someone it is because you want him and do not need. Don’t settle for those who play to lose you, let them win, never give up hope or kindness. Take care of your heart, don’t waste it, don’t throw it away, and when you return to love, enjoy every moment, without giving up anything. Don’t give up on love just because it could hurt you.
Love is reborn in my fantasies as a woman, in the repressed desires, in the desires and pleasures of my body. The fruit ripens, juicy and sparkling, sour in sweetness, and like the sea concentrated in a drop, which contains the strength of the waves in the salt. Pura a flame is ignited, a glow of light infests the darkness, it makes room by tearing the layer of the closed eyelids in the dark: light illuminate me and invade my flesh. I want to taste the passions, suffer from the pleasure, smile and enjoy.

WHY AMLETA CREATES SOMETHING

Art is his need. An instinctive need to create. An instinctive need to be and communicate one’s being to others. Affirming its existence with the creative act is the only way for Hamlet to live. Feeling such a force within oneself, an energy, an immense explosion, a storm that never settles down. A sea that is always stormy to its depths. Being a river in flood, dangerous for others, not accustomed to strong liquid currents, but a natural and splendid element for her. Art is its power. The power to create from nothing. To give life to what has never existed, which has never been seen, which has never been read. A sublime, divine, most envied power. Art feeds on souls. Art is insatiable, it is its fierce demon, and it has walked this path all its life looking for an escape. But you never get rid of art because only art makes it free and alive. It is like a second skin and if you take it off you become skinned and you cannot live anymore. Hamlet has art in every cell, like a deadly virus, which never becomes a disease but which accompanies it throughout its life as a faithful travel companion. Art grinds the flesh, the spirit, the whole life. He raises it in the highest sky, being able to see without eyes, hear without ears, draw without using his fingers; and then makes it descend into the most terrible depths of the human abyss. Art is a miracle of life and death. Whoever possesses the gift is condemned to a parallel life. Hamlet goes in and out as if from a window. She enters and exits herself, feeds herself to the pigs, gives her vital breath, remains in pieces and then begins again. Who would ever want such a life? Yet many envy it and do not know what it means to have the fire of inspiration that consumes! Art is its condemnation. She didn’t choose to start drawing, then painting, writing and playing at the same time. A dark force took his hands, and guided his dark energy. He was thus able to empty the pain he felt while living and to enclose it within his creations. Nothing remains of that period: everything burned. Unfortunately, something was saved from his subsequent dark periods, still not gone and up in smoke. Hamlet was born on a cursed island, in a sick country, and soon she got rid of her life and the pain took her far away, where she continued to suffer and create, create and destroy, herself, paintings, installations, plays, notebooks, sculptures, … Hamlet creates and destroys what he creates. Hamlet is and is not at the same time. He yearns for this perennial creation and has tried several times to free himself from his prison without success. This gift, this power, this torment of colors and words, is the nectar of his days. Everything else is just a bitter side dish.

MISUNDERSTOOD

When I speak and say something, I am never understood. When I speak and say something I am not listened to because I do not speak on video. I write and speak. I don’t record videos. Those who make videos perhaps have a better chance of being heard and understood, even appreciated by everyone. The videos are more followed. I am never taken into consideration because I don’t start talking in front of a cam, I don’t show my tits, I don’t whisper, I don’t blink, I don’t talk about fashion and make-up. I feel very frustrated about this because in this society only videos matter. People want to see someone, fantasize, imagine. I don’t show videos. I speak. But I’m not understood.

FRAGILE SOULS

Sometimes I stop to think … I find myself lying on the mattress staring at the ceiling and reflect. I think a lot, maybe too much, and we know that too much is good, unfortunately it’s part of me and I just can’t avoid it, it’s as if it were an unconditional reflection. I think back to everything, everyone, I think back to everything that made me feel good but also to everything that made me suffer. Today I went to bed with tears in my eyes and a weight on my chest and I think it’s one of the most unpleasant sensations in the world, you know? When you just want to sleep and switch off your brain, but you get so sick that you just mull over what doesn’t work. I interpret it as psychological torture: to suffer for something, and to feel even more hurt after thinking about it intensely for hours. What an unpleasant feeling of oppression. Oppressed by their own feelings, rather than by people. It is strange to think how something apparently abstract, such as emotions, can alienate you from the totality of the world for an indefinite period of time. It’s almost scary to think we’re so vulnerable, but it’s part of life after all … If it were too simple, it probably wouldn’t be worth it.

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