Sometimes you realize that time passes and so do people, friends and years. Friends can be compared to a train, the train passes you went on it until your stop arrives and you get off and you are sure that one day you will never get on it again, then there are the trains that you miss those trains that could have made you different life, even just for a day or even for an hour, they get lost like a lighter, a hat, a photo or even like losing sleep, but sooner or later another train passes, you buy another lighter, buy another hat, and take another photo, even if you are aware that it will never be like the one before, people leave lagoons, memories, moments, unanswered questions, emotions.
Sometimes you just want to be hugged and reminded that you're not alone, but you've become so good at hiding your feelings that by now you don't understand what you really feel, hate?, resentment?, happiness?
The human mind is sensational all those various nuances, that way of seeing through things, those various memories stuck together as if they were a puzzle, the various memories you carry inside, broken hearts, emotions never felt, people never faced.
There are moments that grow and together with them you grow too, you learn to be arrogant and without a heart, then they ask you why and why you've reduced yourself to all this, but you know it's useless to try to explain it would be just words thrown away case because I can't find a logical thread either, so you keep smiling and repeat: "everything is fine, don't worry"
There was a time when I had an Italian blog and I wrote poems, personal things, I showed my paintings, I talked about my problems. I didn’t talk about gossip and fashion and therefore few people commented. The thing that amazed me most about people who didn’t write me half a word of encouragement is that these same people filled other blogs with sweet words, looking like sensitive and empathetic people. I was left in absolute silence. I still see these people writing beautiful things commenting on the misfortunes of others. So I wonder, what did he dislike about me? My spontaneity? My knowledge? Why have they never seen my pain? I could have died and no one would have known. I can’t understand why these people write so many words to others and never write half a word to me. Yet I wrote comments in their blogs and I always participated and tried to read everything but this was useless. I remained invisible to them. Yet for others they have many kind words for everyone, they show a lot of affection to other Italian bloggers. Even now I don’t understand what was in me that he didn’t like. It seems so strange to me to see them write affectionate words to everyone and instead they did not deign to me and I never had even a word of comfort. They say that Italians are warm and affectionate, well as an Italian hostess I have to deny this version, because I have never had any comfort from any Italian user. Maybe I was too sincere. Maybe I was too naive. But I still don’t understand. I have found more love among you who live far from me, and even overseas, and not from my countrymen and I cannot understand this. 2,000 followers who read my blog and no charitable soul who would tell me anything. In the end I deleted the blog because their silence was very bad and I was very bad because even as an abused child I was always invisible. And so I thank all of you, I thank you from my heart, for being close to me because in certain bad moments a word is enough to make me understand that I exist.
I have had several blogs in my life.
For hobby, for diaries, for artistic culture, for poetry, to discuss ..
Some have had a good following, others have been completely snubbed.
However, they all died the moment parts of me completed their cycle.
From there I understood one thing.
Pass what you are.
Whether you put your voice in it or even just a keyboard.
There is a spirit in things that communicates beyond words; which cannot help being perceived when the content is consistent with the container, and vice versa.
Otherwise you can become whoever you want. You can study the techniques and adopt emulations, but you are left a lot emotionless and lifeless.
It is no coincidence that the least durable blogs have always been those in which I did not write on instinct. I didn't follow my nature.
And this applies to everything.
Career, relationships, friendship.
Sooner or later the body lets you know if you are doing everything wrong, and if you are careful you know how to understand when to get back in the office.
It is from the dawn of time that the Sages repeat one and only teaching in different words or doctrines: know yourself, give birth to yourself.
Don't fight. Not processed. Don't pretend.
But, know who you are.
Because if you're looking for joy, if you want to deal with freedom, authentically do what you do, that's where you have to be.
In total honesty of yourself.
THE PRODIGY OF IDEAS 