marți, 21 februarie 2017

Letter to you

"I write this letter to you, but my purpose is selfish, because while writing  this letter maybe I can receive an answer from inside me.
I followed almost everything you asked me , with or without my will, somehow blindly, because I don't which is the final destination.
For some years, you guide me to go back to my childhood. I try almost every night before sleep, to remember or to receive a sign. Why you send me back there? I don't remember much and I don't know how will change me what I will find out.
I discovered lately music and I would like to discover my voice. I know once I had a voice and I lost it somehow. Where? I don't know."

When I wrote this letter, I must have been drunk, because I don't remember to whom I addressed it. To God? He is the only one who could guide me. To my mentor? Unlikely, because does not know about my childhood. And the others, do not talk too much with me.
Instead, I remember I try to find every night an answer from my childhood. What I search there? Why?I do not know. Inside me I know I have to find out. There is a way to turn back in time, and I must find it.

I was such a scared child, with no dreams , but who experimented things. I strove to live among humans but was so much difficult. I was afraid of them, I was afraid of their aggressive behaviour. I was an atypical child and everybody told this. But now, nobody remembers. Just me. Now I am a total typical, boring adult. I lost my uniqueness, because I couldn't adapt in the society. I still can't adapt, but I fake it. If not, I suffer because people are so cruel with people who are different.
I learnt so many , back then, alone . It was only me in the room, and plenty of books. My library was poor, but was all I had. And I had plenty of time. Too much time, alone. My imagination went crazy. I finished to read all the books. And I was only 4. Why did I learnt alone to read? Because I was bored. So much bored that I had to invent stories, to play alone and to do something. So I learnt to read, to speak English and Italian and to write. And I was only 4 years old and nobody knew or cared at the beginning.
And was so weird to me, I didn't understand why we pronounce and write differently some words. It made no sense for me. But finally I learnt and at 5 years old I read newspapers in my mom's office.
And people were impressed by me, and I didn't understand why. They all could read , even better than me. And they made such difference because I was a child. Now I understand , but back then, I couldn't understand why they treated me like a child. I felt like an old person.
And I wanted to give advices to people, but they laughed at me, so I stopped talking. I felt it was better to not say what I think. They always mocked me. So I lost my confidence in myself.
But I didn't suffer because of this, I suffered because I had so much time and so few things to do. I couldn't explore. That was my suffering. I had so many obstacles and the whole house and world at my discretion. The adults scared me a lot: if you do this , it will happen this to you: you could die, somebody will rob you, etc.
Too many obstacles in the world, but I was alone and I had to do something while respecting the rules of adults. I feared the adults and I respected and listened them. So I got myself in the world of imagination and books. At 8 years old I was reading Shakespeare, and I loved it. I couldn't understand the love he presented there but I felt good while reading. Now when I read Shakespeare I feel deep sad inside me, but at 8 years old I didn't feel this, I felt joy. I felt it because I didn't know how the world is, and I thought people are not bad and people do not suffer and this is only the writer's imagination.
I also felt sometimes the need to talk with people, but they would not talk with me. The children were attacking each other and they had a weird behaviour, they were breaking all the society rules. They broke plates, made stupid things, and made their parents unhappy. I didn't want this, to make somebody sad. So I respected all the rules, and made never a stupid thing. I was behaving like an adult. So I wanted to talk with adults,but they would talk with me few things, they talked like with a stupid child. They didn't talk about the novels I read about the news I read. They said a child shouldn't talk about this. So it became soon reading prohibited for me and also not sleeping at late hours.
And I couldn't accept it. Was the only thing I couldn't accept. I had to read. Without this, I would rather have died. My life had no sense. And I found a solution, I found a small source of light and read by it in the night, when my parents were sleeping.
At a moment I created my own stories, while playing with dolls. And I started to write. I wrote poems, but they burned my poems because were not good enough for this world. In this world the writers  starve. They can't have a job.
So I stopped writing. I believed I was not talented.
I continued reading, but I didn't have money for books so I started to borrow books and to go to the library. But most of the books I couldn't find.
When I was in primary school I continued to be weird for the others because I was shy, especially with boys. I couldn't talk easily, because I was ugly. And my biggest wish was to be beautiful to have more confidence and to be liked by boys.
This dream came true when I was in highschool, but this is another story.

Work eat sleep and repeat

Some people find themselves in my mind, and I feel like I have to write about them. I write and everything gets more clear  in my mind.
I've met a guy who looked like me. I was thrilled by his appearance, by his way of speaking, his attitude, his presence, because he was so similar. Like we were twins.
In him I saw myself. And I became very attracted in just some seconds. I would say it is now usual for me, but in this case it was very easy.
I felt like I known him for a long time and I was so comfortable with him. We got deeper in discussions and I liked him more and more. I felt butterflies in my stomach like a high school girl. He told me nice words and was captured by me too.
But this story ended so much fast without words. I felt he is a lost case, when I observed his lack of enthusiasm, his constant preoccupation for work and he was always at watch. He was always in hurry and did not live in the present. In that moment I realized how bad can a person feel when stands near a person like actual him. I was like this for too much long. I didn't care about other's feelings, and I was acting and thinking only at my career, at my job and at my well-being, for being able to start all over again: work eat sleep.and repeat . He was that kind of guy.
In some days he lost total interest in me and I felt bad because I knew I can't help him. Without a passion, without a hobby, without a reason to dream of, you are like a robot. You can live, but you can't be happy. He told me this situation will last only 1 or 2 years until he will gain a better position and more money and after he will take care of other aspects. But he was already not so young, and he was saying this since so much long. If you do not take care in time of your dreams, passions and whatever thrills you , you will lose the train. And once lost, maybe you will never catch him again.
He disappeared from my life without a word, but I knew it can't be another way. I was not at the right moment in his life.But yes, he was at the right moment in my life when I realized how much bad I could cause and how I could destroy myself.
Even now, I am not totally cured and sometimes act like a robot.


A fost o perioada in care imi nu imi permiteam sa imi cumpar o sticla de Coca-Cola, o ciocolata sau o prajitura. Era mai bine, pentru silueta. Era mai bine pentru sanatate, dar tanjeam sa mananc si eu putin ceea ce altii serveau cu atata usurinta.

In mintea mea acele lucruri banale le obtineai cu un efort mare si de cele mai multe ori ajungeam sa renunt sa mai visez la ele, sau poate doar sa sper ca voi primi cadou o cutie de ciocolata.
Cand primeam un cadou, ma bucuram imens si ramaneam datoare persoanei care imi oferea. Primeam atat de rar si era pentru mine o sarbatoare.
Acum orice fel de gustare nu ma mai incanta, pot sa obtin destul de usor. Ceea ce imi lipseste este hrana pentru suflet.
Frustari, compromisuri, incorectitudini, ma incarca zilnic. Superficialitatea relatiilor te face sa te simti din ce in ce mai strain de restul.
Ma simt mai saraca ca oricand. Am incetat sa mai scriu, pentru ca desi simteam ca mai am multe de oferit lumii, nu ma mai regaseam in niciun scop.
Nu am renuntat la vise, dar parca au renuntat ele la mine. Am mai multe motive decat oricand sa fiu multumita, fericita, dar vine un moment in viata in care simti ca viata trece pe langa tine si tu nu ai realizat nimic important.