It’s funny how we let ourselves believe in whatever our body wants to believe. It’s funny how we let ourselves be guided from everything that’s outside instead of what’s inside, instead of what is that really matter. Maybe because it’s far easier? Maybe because it’s far more convenient? After all, how convenient is it to blame other circumstances for things that we do not let happen? How easy is it to blame others for things that we do not do?
Since my last book, I have been writing much less, and it’s no secret. I have been less here, on the website; I have been less on the social media; I have been less between my readers; I have been less between what gives me balance. Of course, there was always an excuse and, of course, some of them were true too. I need spaces when I need spaces; you that follow me know that. I need my times when I need my times. But how about balances? Do we really need spaces from them too? Do let ourselves go really make us better? Do let ourselves go really make us happier? I often think about this when I start to do again the things that I used to do in order to feel truly myself. Running for example. Every time I go running, I remember how good it is for me. Sometimes I even cry while I run, and you know why? Because I re-find myself. And it’s touching, really, how much I know I missed him. Did you ever have that feeling? To miss yourself so, so much that when you finally re-find him/her, you just cry. Oh, only God knows how many times that happened to me. Only God knows how many times it still will happen. Only God knows. But why then we go so far from who we are? Why that happens? This life… this fuc*@ing life, truly… We give up so many little things, thinking we don’t need them. We give for granted so many little things, thinking they are trivial. But believe me, if there’s one thing I have learned is that nothing here is trivial. Nothing. Not even that little thought that pass by your mind in that apparently useless moment; not even that wind blowing through your window at night while you can’t sleep; not even that message from a stranger that says hi (who knows why); not even the tears of your mother; not even your tears for your father or your brothers; not even the pain for the big things; not even the love for the little ones. Nothing here is trivial. Did you know that?
I went to sleep very early last night. Something overwhelmed me. Something crushed on me and torn my inside apart. I needed to shut everything off. Who knows what it was. Who knows what is making me feel this way these days. These days in which I feel like if I would try to die, I wouldn’t die. These days in which jumping would do me no harm. These days in which those voices…
This life… this fuc*@ing life, truly.
I woke up last night and I started to write again, you know? I began a new story. Not in my new office as I planned, no, but on the sofa in the living room. I couldn’t sleep any more, and so I decided to get up. It was 1:30 in the morning. I woke up confused, with a headache. I just sat there and words just begun to come out. I was full, maybe. I was full of an unbalanced life. I needed to throw them out and so, I did. Then I fall asleep again and woke up few hours later, coming to the office to write here. I don’t even know why I am writing in English right now. After all, most of my readers are from Italy. But funny thing is, after all, that my most ranked articles online are in English. I guess the reason then, of why I am writing in English, is a mix between these two things, and… I don’t really care at this point. In fact, I’m not even going to try to answer to that question. It happened before already, sometimes it does. And you know, when I didn’t want to give an answer to things like these, I used to think that it was because they were trivial, but… believe me, nothing is.