Summer 2016.
From now on, the only thing that I can do is, precisely, to climb up.
I must rise again, I have to, because lower than where I am at, there is just misery, misfortune, tragedy and sorrow, for me and for all the people who are part of my life.
This is quite of a responsibility.
Six years and one month since the moment I decided to give up, to throw away, to embrace the carelessness, to promote the carelessness, to abandon myself to fate, case, chaos.
Seventy-three months.
73
Is the number of the envious, of malice, of incitement.
The number representing a definitive break with a situation.
Diseases, hospital stays, the need to be hospitalized. The final moving to a new house.
Removals.
Funerals.
I can see all of it, recalling these seventy-three months. It started with a funeral, it MUST END with a final move to a new house...
..but the truth is that my inner desire is/was to conclude this story with one more funeral, with my funeral.
And I don't care if you all think that is pretty much dramatic, pathetic, over exaggerate. as this is the truth.
Dear friends, maybe for once you should open your eyes and watch me.
Do you see me? Can you really see me? I'm not so sure.
Carelessness towards our own lives is nothing less than a slow suicide. To not glorify your life is nothing less than glorify your death.
Yes, I'm sorry, I admit it : Since my father died I just lost the reason, the meaning, the will to glorify God.
Everything I just wanted to do, was to escape to a tropical land, to find the biggest and the longest techno party ever possible, to take an incredible amount of all kinds of drugs and finally die, to die dancing and euphoric, being so high to seem really, truly happy. I know it sound funny, but is not.
This is the thought that I drag as a burden through seventy-three months. Six years of lies, of insincerity, deceitfulness, self-destruction, disrespect, contempt, rage....
SO MUCH RAGE AGAINST GOD
Fortitude was one of my best quality. Fortitude was what my father taught me, silently, what a father, a doctor, taught to his rebel son, his stubborn, disobedient son, without even speaking, just watching him, observing him, therefore considering him.
My Father's eyes, how the looked at me, watched me, scan me, saw me.
My Father's eyes : the reason, the meaning, the source of my will to glorify my Life, to glorify God.
...gli occhi di mio padre...
I'm fighting to find again the will, to restore my fortitude, but I feel so lost, I feel so lost.
In any case I just know that I cannot go on like this, and I write it here, where everyone can see it, I write it now, on the summer solstice, when the Sun has being glorified in every ancient colture of the planet Earth.
I invoke the help of God and of all the people who loves me.
I know that I have responsibilities, I was used to love responsibilities and I'm doing my best, I'm trying my best, but I can't hide it anymore, I can't avoid forever this strong desire I have to give up, to throw away, to not care, to abandon, to loose myself into the carelessness, forgetfulness, oblivion, death.
...gli occhi di mio padre...
Today, summer solstice 2016, I invoke the help of God, the Father almighty, the help of heaven and earth whom He created, the help of all things, visible and invisible and the help of all the people who loves me, your help, if you are reading it right now.
...and this is my way of doing it, this is how I express myself since I'm really young. I know it sounds theatrical, melodramatic, artifact or artistic, but behind this way of writing it, behind my cheap poetry, there are exactly the facts, for what they are. I can't write it in detail (even if I would love to do such thing) I can't describe all the events with naked words, yet harsh, unpleasant, abusive, because I don't want to hurt anyone with it...
...this is my way, but it doesn't mean that is not deadly serious.
Faithfully,
Andrea