Damn. It 'so long that I do not write here that I do not know how to begin or what to say. Are so many things happened, outside, inside of me, than if it is so right to write, many are too personal, others I simply difficult to write them in a miserable post, without sharing it with anyone but myself with . Even the latter, of course are quite personal, so I may have a reluctance to blurt out here, but compared with the other things that plague me at this time appear much less serious or, indeed, less personal , although the I have already said but I repeat myself, I am anyway!
makes a certain sense write things more or less serious while I'm listening to the entire movie of Beauty and the Beast on TuTubo, especially when there's things like "Gaston, you are very primitive," but I will try to ignore the songs and phrases that I know by heart and I will be recited at this time as a Hail Mary!
anyway.
C 'is a topic that I have not addressed yet with anyone, any time I want to start with, but I do not know what words to use, how to do, I'm afraid I do not use the words most appropriate for me to understand. 'S only person with whom I spoke is Nanni, 5 minutes, running, and mentioning only the fact itself. Nothing more.
I've never been one that lays bare what is and what I felt, I always resolved that oppressed me hiding behind masks, and more ... but at least every now and then we could, when I found a person who inspire me more confidence, very few people came into my suffering, perhaps I can not even really there to get inside of me and respond to the doubts in my mind that, often because I'm afraid to ask me some questions, I'm afraid of the answers and the reality ...
Even the person who has changed, many, many years ago saw what was inside, what I had, and do not have permission, nor the 'I have permission from anyone ... Except for the few, and among those to whom I allowed to explore what I felt inside and what really (always in part speaking of course) did not deserve it, even if it was necessary that I might reveal in front of her. Well I think you understand who you are.
As I said, I've never been crabs a person who sets up what is really smiling, seemingly always ready to tell you what he thinks, and he feels he wants to say. But then if I ask myself the same question "Is this really what you think, feel, or do you mean?" Or if I just asked a question is deeper than all those others, though some of them were already deep her ... What happens then?
I block. Completely normal, I think. Everyone is closed and will not unfold easily to anyone at any occasion. But first, I was more inclined to do so, not I say it was better or not. I'm just saying that it was different.
Now even more than I trust myself, I do not ask anything, and if I try I'm so afraid of the answers that I can not give me that clouds the mind in any way, to forget what I concern. It seems to me to write and say things without meaning or a logical thread, but this is what I meant: I can not give an order to even the simplest conversations, general, that not even dare to get into specifics, something that I do not want to be alone on the purple, let alone here.
I can not give an order to anything, and I repeat, that it baffles me most of all and what has changed on the issues, myself. I try to ignore problems because I find it hard to catalog, to give an explanation or offer a possible solution. Maybe because I'm afraid that such solutions can get involved again, a game that I am not able to cope, once again, giving back part of my self-destructive one more reason to hate me, a defeat more for me to say for myself that it is incapable of being in the world.
It 's amazing what has become so alone, so alienated from the rest of the world. Even before I need my space, even before it was difficult to talk of many things. But now it seems to me that the conditions are extreme, have risen to great power. Are no longer as before, I grew up, but I am surprised that grow in my case is not associated with the most open to anyone, not even with yourself, or with the latter, at least in a bad effort.
I feel I do not have to say anything to anybody, neither beautiful nor ugly, yet some people still want good, although I feel distant, with anyone, even from my body. It 's like if I saw from the top, as if life in which I live, after all, is not mine, but I seem to see a reality show where the characters actually I do not know them seriously, a reality that simply spy others, as if, once turned off the TV, my real life waiting for me elsewhere, to be lived. Instead, c is not anywhere else.
So, what about ... So much confusion, I have to say. Beyond the major concerns outlined above, but intentionally not spelled out, there are other, smaller ... The small choices, small regrets, but these are based on the conduct of your life ... It 's just what I'm doing? what I'm choosing? I do not know, but I have the terrible feeling that it is not ...
And this I can not talk to anyone, let alone write it here ...
Zao, and I hope you will understand, but not until the end because otherwise my intent to leave everything he had few outstanding results.
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