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La pioggia fitta.

E un piccolo, fragile animale indifeso.

Non avere paura, piccolo. La sua rabbia non è qua per farci male, è qua per ricordarci la forza che c'è dentro.

Cerca rifugio ma non avere paura, che i semi cadranno dal cielo perché tu possa mangiarne.

In quel momento stavo cercando un numero disperata, volevo che il buio mi avvolgesse. E poi è sceso un temporale.

La natura mi ha portato forza, scopo e gentilezza.

Topolino, sei il mio amico.

Pioggia, sei ciò che porta via il passato.

Vento, sei la spinta e l'aria nei miei polmoni.

Tuono, sei la mia rabbia che urla al mondo.

I don't know how to feel, maybe it's better to stay here than outside: no more outer influences.

But as soon as i go outside they will be on me again. So i guess this is just a free vacation.

I don't know how to feel, the same ITER i passed through many times, always the same things told to me as if i didn't listen to them 4 years ago. I know everything about this place: just tell where the towels are and how to do a proper shower.

I know the medication, not all of them i must admit i've never studied psychiatry, but i tested on myself various pills. I already know everything i need to know for myself.

Am i arrogant? Maybe staying in this mindset "i know all" won't help me anymore.

I sense no danger, except for the one inside.

So I don't have to protect myself at all costs, maybe. If there's no danger, i need a new strategy to keep living apart for the one protecting me from everything and everyone.

What could it me?

So many possibilities.

The girl I will always be, no matter what

I called it my chosen family.

But family is complicated.

I learned a lot from them, but i thought and convinced myself that there was a way of living connections in a different way, without all the masking and stuff. Without the isolation and individualism. The "free spirited way" haha

But now, I feel resentment and a growing anger, desperate, because "You lied to me!"

Everyone moved on their own way living no crumbles behind.

IT WAS NOT REAL!

The reality, what does it even mean, is it fluid? The core of reality itself is fluidity? One year in a way, the other year is another.

I hoped for it to be the ultimate reality of connection. I praised it as if it was holy water, quenching thirst among the thirsty, the screaming of revolutionary youth: sweet, warm, home.

Now, I'm standing in a dry field.

I am.

Standing.

Anger developing into isolation, isolation developing into something new (i guess??)

I sure know this way, will make me mean, acid, with those eyes full of "you owe me one".

All the anger, suffering, cry for help, this intricate fighting between wanting urging for warm and the feeling of embracing loneliness, as a self protective mechanism.

Is there more there to offer?

Besides drinking at a pub with Friends, enjoying the presence of one another, only just for a chat. Repeating over years the same things that should give you compfort.

Am i asking for too much?

The excessive, going under the rules of what should be and should not be doing. The invisible limit of what us, as human beings should be comfortable living in.

With on going no sense this period of chaos feed to us, with the fear of walking by the street at night, the ultra media information they're giving ti us.

These are my streets.

I long for the freedom of being wild and reckless.

I don't see no point in living, except for LIVING.

In my own way.

And still i feel in a cage of four walls, made of dissociating public transport, prescripted activities.

Without the fascination, mesmerizing view of what could possibly be.

I don't know if this will reach anyone, but feel free to share your feelings.