The Trilogy: The Darkness, the Mirror and Light Darkness The flame shines in front of my eyes and I see the reflections orange, yellow, blue and green. If I had a mirror in front, I would see my eyes shine through the light, as if I had nothing else to me. I do not know if I'd understand the pain that lurks behind unacknowledged. I do not know if I would venture that in reality the thoughts oppress me now.
I see the flame to approach my mouth in a gesture that I had forgotten a cigarette. But it is the last cigarette of the condemned to death. The last breath. Without feeling guilty. Without feeling the usual reprimands in his ears. Apart from that there's no one beside me telling me that it hurts. But now I know it's the lesser evil. So I aspire, aspire after months of fasting and I feel that death fills my mouth. Cough. I vacuumed too. I did not think there was this effect for me, I smoked years - indeed! - Decades of my life. Evidently these months that I did not I have purged the lungs as well as the brain of his private drugs. Yet I am stubborn and tried again with another breath. This time it's better. I do not cough, I feel the smoke coming down and the brain relaxes. It was time. From the time I want, but I did not imagine more than repeat it again.
I'm sitting on the floor near the window open and look at the park. Small lights illuminate a path where two guys go by. I see them through the smoke I exhale, but they do not know. They do not cares. Do not imagine that someone is watching their kisses and caresses them. Do not care to look for that with his hands and mouth, in a moment that seems to them forever. Around them there is none. They leaned against a bench. He is sitting. She is a little 'lies down with her head on her legs, a bit' put him astride. I, too, once I did. How long ago? I do not remember. I do not want to remember, because it no longer makes sense.
pass two cars. It 's late, is one in the morning and someone is still not in bed. Someone which comes from a party or a dinner among friends, among family members. Who knows. Not that I care, but I am fascinated by the fact that for a moment, a brief moment, we can be united to a stranger for the sole fact of being in one place together. Yes, of course, I'm in my house watching the world outside the window and he's out in the world. Yet here we are. Both. A few meters away and unwittingly we have been united by fate. How often it happens? Every day, everywhere. You are among the people and those people share your moments, sometimes significant, sometimes not. Sometimes you want to forget them while someone else would still remember them or keep them there forever. Think of this moment: these guys there would hold time, the driver would run just a few minutes later to be in bed and not make the effort to get out, go home, go to bed. I. I? I wish I had already concluded what I have in mind and forget about this business.
I hear a noise behind me. At home there is no one, so it will be Alexander, the boy who lives nearby, which comes from somewhere. Maybe he was the driver who was driving. The walls are not so thick, so you can hear everything. I feel when making love to his girlfriend, I feel when I play the guitar, when I hear a vacuum cleaner. And he will hear me when I cry. Why I cry, lately, a lot. Too.
I refocused on cigarettes. It is now almost over. I begin to feel stronger and more bitter the taste, feel the heat closer to your mouth. In the end I liked it. In the end I did not want to stop. I did it for someone else. As my whole life. Lived for someone else, but not for me. And in the end I was left with nothing for me, not even a crumb to fill my stomach when hungry. The only solution was convinced not to be hungry, to have already eaten. Tease. Ironic. Try to laugh, but to me, smiling like a hyena on my life because there is nothing to laugh about.
Good. Now that I smoked I can go on. What was in the plan? The first glass of wine and the first tablet. I wrote everything, so when I annebbierà mind a pattern to follow, I will not be too rational. Go .. throws down ... Done ...
I do not feel any sensation. Only hot, very hot to the stomach. And maybe a chill that comes from outside. A breath of wind that has escaped through the trees and slapped me. Maybe you had noticed what I'm doing ...
Now I light a second cigarette and try to get me an interview. "You have decided to commit suicide and you decide to leave written something to someone. What to write in those. " What a fucking question! But I have already decided and why I write to someone? Someone is interested in me in the last three hundred sixty-five days, by any chance? If you find one person who did that, then I do, I think I should let him write something. But is not there. I can not think of anyone. What should I write and to whom? To my boss and my dear colleagues? Have been cast aside, pushed to do a shitty job which no one cares. I was ridiculed, discredited. They made fun of me, than I was. Always with a smile on the lips. Again with the fake hand open. The company of the Long Knives. Not looking for friendship, no. But even the war. If I wanted the war would have been a soldier. Well ... drink to the health of all my colleagues, those who perhaps a gesture of friendship you have given really, but you were too disappointed to see it. And toast those for which the liquid goes through because he dreams of seeing them trudge like you breathless. Down .. another glass and another small candy .... Feel that hot inside? Who says that death is cold?
"But look around. There's just work, "said the Jiminy Cricket in Pinocchio. Of course, Cricket. There is also love. The love that hurts, it kills you inside. What makes you bleeding inside the soul that not even the smile of a child can open sutures. I have sought love. Anyone can confirm. I tried opening the heart to smile, trusting in who holds out a hand. What did I find? Vampires and demons, ready to suck the soul to hell to sell it. Infidels in search of sex only. Eternal Peter Pan Tinkerbell seeking only to be praised and loved, but only willing to give you a night of joy, against a life of pain. Remember? Yes, I speak just to you. Remember how we met? We were at a party together. I as usual, the little sucker sitting in that chair waiting for someone to come and ask me to dance. Tu. The usual pick all that as long as they breathe. Facing each other. It 'been a while. I've seen your eyes sparkle and I've recognized. Prey. You crossed the forest of people who have divided us and pointed straight at me. Two glasses in hand. "I lost my friend. Would you like a martini? ". I told someone that I love the martini, right? You were beautiful. The yet. Despite his age. Invitasti me to dance. I appiccicasti on your body and tongue in the ear and neck. It was like taking a shower dance with you. But I liked it so much that the mind is clouded, and when you asked me the phone number to call me the next day I did not hesitate even a moment. I shower every day. I could also get used to feel your body on him all day. You called me. I've tried. For months it seemed that I did not live without me. I am looking at all hours. You came to my house in desperation and jealousy. Then one day, poof! You disappeared. I've looked everywhere but did not you find. Until a few weeks ago ... I found you after years ... how many? Twenty? And for me it was like the past one day. You told me "I'll call you." I'm still waiting ... So, listen, listen to this. I drink to your health. Another glass and another piece of candy. I feel the heat. All the warmth I was hoping for from you and you would not have given me.
"Can not have anyone that I love you? A family, children? "Bella this. Where did you read? Tell me about ... come on, I buy the whole book so I can laugh up to the rest of my days ... that is practically a few minutes ... Wait, now I turn on the third cigarette ... I decided that I do the whole package ... is small, there are ten ... You were saying? A family? My father dropped my mother when I was two years. He's gone with a girl who was twenty. But he had his revenge. She has given up after ten. He has not held up and died shortly after. At least he loved her. It 'the only thing that I can take in its defense. But I is not enough. No. It is not enough to fill the void left inside. I still have pictures of me at school, alone with my mother, while most of my companions had also a father next door. E 'dead ... I said so even when he was alive. I know that he was not proud, but it was the only way not to feel guilty for that absence. And you, my mother. Small, humble, slender. She sustained the universe because I do not collapse on him. What helped her to support that weight I do not know. Why he did not know. I guess for me. I guess for that reason that instead of me not to help at this moment ... Children ... I've never had a partner worthy of the name, let alone children ... I should have put the world to make them suffer? I was not of the stature of my mother. I would never have been able to sustain what has held her. No. .. I try to drink the health of my children who are never born, who are somewhere in the universe, inconsistent, shapeless, half of my appearance, and half of the void that is their father. Health ...
Now wait. Stop the interview. I vomit ... I can not stand alcohol, you know ...
Here. I'm back. I feel elated ... I put a little 'music. A little 'good music .. Heavy metal, that of my time ... here .. I light my cigarette and fourth ... What times those in which I went to the disco ... Runway from home before my mother noticed that I was in a miniskirt and go on the bike by Franz ... How many times have I burned with the silencer. I came home with bladders of all the crazy times that I went out with Franz. By now my mother knew ... when he saw those blue spots on my leg saying "You're out again with Franz?". He could not see. He said he takes drugs. In reality ... in fact I saw him only once get a spliff in his sixteenth blue with the hood. I have never smoked nor tasted drugs. I only smoked cigarettes. The first eighteen years, behind the school gate in the alley where we stopped to tell the stories of the night before, then there were no cell phones ... We drink at the technology generation, the one who takes and leaves you with an SMS ... candy and throw down another ... I know that I vomited all the other of the first ... I'll have to start over mica?
I'm getting sleepy ... but the interview must go on ... as the title of a book by Oriana Fallaci "Interview with History". As the title of the song by Queen "Show must go on." Never mind the sleep when you're about to die? "How do you feel?" The interviewer presses. How do you want to hear me, you ugly idiot? I feel bad ... I have many? Four, five glasses of wine in extra-strong stomach, which already is not bad for someone who is sober and almost as many aspirin tablets and tranquilizers. Or at least what's left after having thrown up a bit '. I feel a tremendous heat in and cold out crazy. I do not know how is possible but it is so ... I feel fit inside a strange feeling. I feel this fire burning. As the fire of the lighter ... By the way, here is the fifth cigarette ... are in the middle, but I do not know if I can finish the package. And I feel strange. You know how when you think something should happen and you are convinced and you expect it and you're there like a idiot and you think "is happening now ... and then you realize that nothing has happened ... Well, I do not know if something will happen, but I'm sure so ... legs feel soft. Luckily I was sitting. I have to laugh. Funny. I have nothing to laugh but I laugh. I'm here I write the diary to the computer the last minute. I'm listing the reasons for the more serious and dramatic I decided to kill myself and I laugh. There would almost be pissed off ... already ... there would almost get angry but then because I'm laughing with tears in their eyes? Wait ... Now I get up and do the test of the leg ... See you at what stage ... if I'm standing so I can not kill me immediately. They are too conscious ...
Ouch! Here are falling, then cooking it is the right place ... go, the sixth cigarette ... I must hurry ... then two glasses and two tablets ... feel inside a thick. I feel a pain inside me crazy. The laughter gives way to reality. Why am I here? Would you really know? Why I have not alternative. I have nothing left. My hands are empty. I can not take anything personal around me, nor to receive them. They tell me. Me say that there are more comfortable with me, because I'm selfish, why do I feel like shit, because I pissed off about anything. Why do I do? I wonder but I can not find an answer. I've got a job. Bad people around me, but I've got a job. E c 'are people who do not have it. Women like me because they are whores do not have a job. And I spit on what I have. Should I spit in the face to those who hate me do it. Yet that minimum of decency I have left at the bottom of puts me in a position to do so and not to swallow a bitter pill every day, rather than spit in the face to those who want me to feel like shit. Fire me? I could not live without work. How do I? I go to sleep to the railway station hoping to fall in love with the first Angel City picks me out of pity? No. But I could wait until tomorrow to commit suicide. I could get the satisfaction of redundancies and kill tomorrow night ... No. .. you can not, now are in the middle. The courage, I will not do tomorrow. Should I continue ... speed .. another glass, another tablet and seventh cigarette.
The phone rings. And 'my mother. I let it ring. Would realize that I can not say a word. Before I mumbled something to myself and I realized that I can not put together more than two consonants and two vowels. But it is normal ... force another drink, the health of my mother who continues to call. Mom does not answer you ... I'm committing suicide ... you want to understand? Eh ... yeah, if I understood to be here instead of knocking on the intercom phone. But you've never understood. You were too strong. You were too busy to prevent the universe collapses a bit 'farther than where I was to take care of me. You were once over me, you were the sky above me, always blue, but between you and me there was a vacuum, without oxygen. And 'how I feel. Your love is not able to cross that gap. I saw you breathless, run and I knew that you did for me and basically I felt a little 'to blame for that. I wanted to thank you, but how many ways a child has to thank an adult? An adult is too smitten to realize that in order to avoid overwhelming the world, I needed only to take it away, hold me tight in your arms, close to your heart.
Nothing else, really. Nothing more. I'm here, with the teenager who wrote diaries on Sunday afternoon in his room with the radio on, with the girl behind the poster of drooling Antonio Cabrini because he had no love to occupy the thoughts really, with myself than twenty years ago, one of ten to five. All together in one pain. All together on the same glass. Another and another cigarette. And we are nine.
a constant. The pain was constant. Cut here and there by some happy moment. It is said that the mind removes the painful memories. Well, then I should undergo a lobotomy because my brain is full of things to remove. The phone rings again, but it's a text message. I can not believe. You ... you do live in times when I least expect it. I get to see us tonight ... yes, I could ... I'm alone but I'm making the most important thing in my life and do not want you in the balls. Got it? When I needed and call you were not there. I've thrown out of your life without excuses and explanations, the day after he made love to me. And now I run again meeting, as I did every time you call me? I'm regaining my dignity and some would say "Better late than never." So you do not answer. Even though I is emerging in spite of glamor alcohol a bad design, to tell you to come here by me, then you can enjoy the spectacle of a brain smashed on the asphalt. But perhaps you do not even feel guilty. What does not shine to your person for you not be affected. Even with an extreme gesture capture your love. So fuck it, still there waiting to respond to your message ...
Last Orders last cigarette.
A sip of wine. A puff of smoke. Mix and the effect is deadly. I feel the heat through chest, right between the two breasts and go down to the pit of my stomach and then up quickly to beat me in the head. Fog everywhere. Maybe it really arrived until the last minute. Inhale smoke again ... maybe I have to do it now. Now that I'm not so much with his head. It will be easier to lose balance and fly. How nice ... I can not wait to taste it. Open your wings and soar up finally, a moment before falling down. The sounds begin to soften around ... I have to act quickly, otherwise collapse before I could get on the windowsill. I support the computer because I have to stop writing, but somehow I continue to tell the end ...
Here ... close your eyes and hear my voice that says: I did ... are on the ledge. Below me the void. Total. I'm in the ideal situation: blank inside and blank out. The librium should govern, is ultimately a physical law that balance or not? What would the prof in high school, that I never questioned why so much in physics nerd and knew I was studying? If two forces are pulling in the opposite direction on an object with the same intensity as the object remains stationary, correct? Last breath. Then I go ... really, I gotta go. Trattenetemi not more. The story is over. Back to doing what you did before. Lose well this end. This is so bitter. Back to where you were. Where were you? In the office and have decided to take a break? A home as your wife, your husband, your mother or your father yelling that dinner is ready? Either you are screaming to turn off your computer because it is a lot like an idiot in front of you? Listen to them. E 'sage advice. Stop reading this shit and go back to your life.
Forget my life. E 'mine, not yours and you should not necessarily be here to hear about. I am no one for you, you know? Not me. I do not understand what it is that keeps you attached to his eyes to this story. Think about it. Maybe if I know you could act before I arrived at this point, right? Think about it. And if you do not know me then what do you care to read the end? And 'the last time I ask. Shut down and go. If you go forward, you will remain a bitter taste. If you go, you never know if I really did, but you will remain a hope.
I hope I do not anymore. I stopped by a little 'hope of obtaining it.
I do not have a place here on this earth ... I never had. I can only fly. In the dreams of others. In the excitement of the live of others. But I do not live with me. I do not live my life. So I decided that if I do not have a life, then I can decide when I want to die. For example now. The heart beats wildly. The eyes go from heaven to earth. I feel dizzy. The sense of balance is ceasing. I feel that I must go. Come on, then you'll see that it's all over, I tell myself. What is this feeling that appears at the eleventh hour and why? It does not change what I think. It does not change the reasons why I went above ... and then .. I have to go, yes ...
One ... I'm afraid ... Two ... I fear my God, I fear, however, I know ... I must go.
Just a moment. A snap. You make so many images in my mind. Smiles, tears, faces, objects, thoughts, places, memories, regrets, caresses.
Three.
Mirror I suck!
I look at that and I can only think that.
You can have my face, my eyes. You can talk with my mouth and make gestures with my hands. But you can not be me. You are a universe away from what I have inside me.
You are wrong, you're a liar, you're ruthless. Do not believe in anything.
I could not even tell that objective.
do not know if you have one. I have my doubts.
After all, think about your life.
Get a topic at random. The family. What do you have?
Watch. Ask for, well that sucks. You have upended what had laboriously built for years. You ruined your husband forever and your son to chase what? Who? A prince or a bastard? Essert You say you love? At your age?
But what do you know, love, little fool? For you love is still that of a fairy tale: and they lived together happily ever after? Love is not, honey, wake up!
Love is getting up the next morning to those who still want to fight that day with you. Love is wanting to wake up next to you having the person who has struggled so far with you. Love is not able to do without the other defects of its merits and be sick. You know? Have you ever experienced? O at the first difficulty you have said "Enough" and you gave up?
Take another topic. Your parents. Where am I?
At some point you're gone. Out of sight, out of mind. And so it was. Did you frigate of their lives they shrank, they could not anymore.
Yet you wanted.
Yet you have loved.
Yet you have tried.
Maybe they went wrong, but you, as a mother, you think he never wrong with your son?
not ask where they were when they were suffering. Ask yourself where you are now when they suffer.
not ask where they were when you needed love. Ask yourself where you are now when they ask for love.
Go, go forward with the list. Work? What do you want? Being a CEO? Try to be content. After all do not work degrading. You are not humbled each day as it happens to some people who work for a spit of money. Your money will earn them good money ... or am I wrong?
Sure, you're holding for you. There are small little battles and feuds, sometimes come home with some injury. But basically what you expected? You just roll out the red carpet entrance and you gave four young men waving feathers when you're hot?
Alarm, girl ...
More and more I look at you wonder how you do every day to support the image you have of you, believe you invincible to believe they can split the world into believing that everything will be due.
You know what's behind you? You know what I see in your eyes?
I see emptiness.
You do not think. You do not even let you touch the thought.
you abandon the instinct and you care about what causes around you.
But you know I've counted the days, right? But this does not make you change.
Every day head on, boldly, go through your day until the evening.
Then you arrive here, in this house, in front of this mirror.
And you dismount.
Put away the eye candy.
Put away the smile.
You look inside and see what you do not like.
How do I change? How do you change?
Where is the lever to turn and change direction?
Maybe you do not know where to go, but only enough to turn a bit '.
Have you read this morning that woman? Yes, the one who committed suicide.
The envy? Do not know anyone who has never envied another because it is able to take his own life. Worrying your statement ...
I understand, however. You are envious of his choice. You are envious of his choice.
That woman in one way or another has been able to choose, she found the courage to take a stand.
And you?
You are stuck at the fork and stay there, turning his head first to the left and then head right.
And you decide. You do not see anything good neither to one side or the other.
Maybe because it's in your eyes that lacked a soul.
Maybe because your mind is wandering.
You are on the border between good and evil. Like doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.
the morning play as the villain and return in the evening and you in front of this mirror you say that your soul do not like.
Do something then.
Choose. Choose whether to stay in the dark or walk in the light.
Only you can decide. Nobody will do it for you.
Even I who am your mirror image.
Light My hand trembles as he leans on the door of the church and urges him to get inside. We must make a big effort because it is one of those massive gates of the old ones with all the reliefs depicting images of the Prophets, a little 'bruised by time, the color green in some places. I push with all my strength and I think that is a metaphor for hard work and commitment that involves being a Christian. And 'as if God would tell me "If you want to come talk to me you really want, you really believe it, because hard work to come in here and I believe that there is."
When inside I realize I'm alone. The church is empty and the loneliness is amplified in the high and narrow aisle where my every breath could be lost without my being able to find him. I look around. I'm really alone. But I do not care, or better, so maybe God can listen to me. You do not have anyone else to hear. All ears for me, if you have ears. Funny ... as you imagine us because we have made in Your own image and likeness, but then I wonder how does a pure spirit like you to have the nose, ears and mouth. You can not ... really not. I lose a smile and what I am heartened. Even good for me coming here after so long. How much? I do not remember anymore. A lifetime ago, maybe. When I attended the oratorio because I liked Daniel, but he saw the girls. It was bigger than me!
Perhaps I know why I came ... Like everyone, I remembered you when I thought I need you. I read this morning that woman who committed suicide by throwing himself from the window sill. How sad! They found an empty pack of cigarettes and wine. The two mobile phone calls unanswered: who knows what would have happened if he had said ... He recounted his evening on a PC until it is up on the windowsill. It must have been terrible to see you there, alone, screaming for help and do nothing, true God? Why You give us life but then you give a damn about what happens to us. I have called "free will" but, when we err, as a good Father forgive us but then not help us bear the burden of our guilt. And what kind of father are you then? Let us decide our lives, and punish if we decide to remove it, but what you did because you could carry the weight of sorrows with the life you gave us?
I know, I know. It is not a Christian attitude. This I learned as a child ... He traveled a lot of stories about you. I remember one in particular, the one that tells you to walk at our side and when the prints become two of four is not really why have you forsaken us, but because we're carrying in her arms. Bella. Yes, the image is beautiful. When I was sick, I always thought, 'Well, now God comes and takes me in his arms,' but you never came and I said "There will be someone more in need ... at the bottom of mine are small things .. "But this did not give me any comfort, you know? Did not help to lift the heart from the weight I carried, without you. Do not help me to wake in the morning with a smile. You say it all: "Smile, so things have improved. I tried to mummify a smile on my face and heart, but it did not do anything. When I suffered there was nobody. I was always alone in it. A loneliness that you break. See so many around you. Does anyone really gives you a smile, a hug and a comforting word. Da 'heat. Just for a moment. Then it is inevitable that in you back the darkness. The small bulb lights up only to be smothered by the darkness: the darkness can survive forever. The bulb burns out sooner or later. Sure, you tell me: I am the light. But it does not shine for me, I learned it. Maybe I'm the other lost sheep for which shine. Not for me. I escape your eyes. They are there, outside your field of vision. In the cold of the dark cave, away from the ox and dall'asinello making heat. Sometimes I feel just like that and you can not do anything. Or maybe you do not want ...
Therefore, God, I understand that woman. I understand it really. There are times when you find yourself facing a wall. You know you're going to crash and then you think it is useless to slow the rush. Indeed. You decide to speed it up so why do not you think about it over and over. So you know that nobody cares. Both know the pain of a death in intensive takes you a bit 'and then passes. E 'in human nature. Perhaps you yourself have made sure that no pain is strong enough to stay in time. And maybe ourselves if we think of this, we decided to survive the wall, figuring that after the crash, there is something for which it is worth our pain to survive. Survive. Literally live on it. Above the pain that grips the heart. Above the hope that it's gone. On each morning, when your eyes open and you curse the moment when the night ended and the sun has begun to rise, because as a vampire you can not stand the light. Are used to the dark, maybe I'll even try!
I understand. Of course you do because I know what it means when love is not there, when all around grip disappearing, like a mountain on which you're hiding its climb rocks where you could find support. I do not know whether we should have more courage to dare to live or die. Perhaps the second. Decide every day to get up from that bed, however, is to have all the power of this world to raise every inch of skin that pushes most of the force of gravity to stay down. Means having the courage to open his eyes when they weigh as burglar gate. It means something to swallow, however, even when the stomach is completely closed and you back up what you eat. It means to cover up and go when it's cold, plunge into moods of people in the metro, to grasp the smells, rub their pain - not just those that everyone already has! - Warm up to their joys, to get to work and draw a breath of fresh air before going on the glass door and face the humiliation of every day, colleagues who look at you wrong, you are a tripping colleagues, colleagues that you smile and then it's up to you whether a smile is right or wrong. Get out now and then when you head for home, with the bitterness of every day, pulling his neck to survive as a mother and wife, and eventually get tired at night, unwilling to simply vanish in the night's sleep. It takes courage, a little courage every day. Easier to let go and say "Enough."
you from up there I wonder how many laughs you do ... true? See rush us, see that we fight for something that does not make sense and laugh, laugh at us. Only sometimes we realize our smallness. When something bigger bursts into our lives, only then will we understand. Why are grand, we ... because we realize how useless our retaliation of the work only when something about the family or health takes us off guard. Only then will we realize that we have given too much importance to something that should not have it. And you laugh at the ... mouth without laughing, because you are pure spirit ... but you laugh or smile at what we are infinitesimally small and stupid. Claim to know everything about life, but we do not understand that a poor side. And you you know ...
do not know why I came here in years. Perhaps that suicide hit me. Too many times because I thought it was the only way and if they are still here only because every time rejected the idea of \u200b\u200bbeing in a dead end and would always try the other road that walk together, because he had to be somewhere Part ... I was lucky in that. Perhaps if this woman had seen another way would not have plunged into the void. Yet he did. Evidently she was against the wall, flattened. They have not published anything of what he wrote but I'd like to read it. I'd like to read up to that point in distress and our thoughts have in common that crossroads where it begins that one side takes you to death and the other brings you to life. Some people do not see a road. I'd like to know what the other is hidden in their eyes and how they feel in the stomach, brain, heart and stomach when they decided to call it quits and are at the last minute, last second before leaving. I want to understand where I'm different, because there, in that my diversity, up to now has been kept my salvation.
There is a strange silence and a strange light in here. Maybe it's just my impression or maybe my memory does not work. I have lived here for years, I went to these places in my childhood. I have some flash of communion, confirmation, profession of faith. Then the oratory. That's it. Perhaps a marriage of childhood friends. Nothing more. I feel the sweet smell of incense. I've always liked. It reminds me of the most important celebrations in which the altar was incensed. Remember something sacred, something immortal that goes further than all our little things. Something that we can not understand, at least now. Tomorrow who knows.
I almost feel uncomfortable. I do not know. Observed by you. When viewed from above. Do not get me wrong. I do not feel judged. For the first time in my life I am not ashamed of what I did, but I feel understood. A strange feeling. I who have always tried to understand others, to perceive the needs, now suddenly I feel a strange collection in an embrace, and including, without the need to speak to explain how I feel. God, what are you doing? You're picking up? As in the fable of fingerprints ... ? Maybe you're picking up from my own weight and you feel you're doing inside of me. It would be nice to believe, but life is not a fairy tale. What do you tell small soon proves to be a great white lie. They tell you that life is beautiful, love and warmth. But love hurts. This is not no one tells you. You find out about you, from first love to betray you, you violate, abandon you, ignore you, you wear in the brain and heart. From these innocent love to the others who live as an adult, those which hang all your hopes, loves that are unlawful or adultery. It can happen, damn it, let's face it. It may happen that one day you wake up and find yourself in love with another. Or at least think so. And do not say it's love, the one with the capital "A". Just even a simple love affair to feel displaced, with the infinity of differences that exist between the two feelings. You feel lost. And you feel lost. Maybe you take your turn in the suffering of your heart for a moment did it seem. Falling in love is subtle: you take without your knowing it. Play with your life with those around you, color other nuances that you love, light shines and what you did not obscure what you have, so you are naturally led to what is other than you, more from your life. And day after day you're alone and increasingly around the vacuum increases. A void that can not fill.
Even I feel an empty body. The soul does not know where it is. I betrayed myself and what I thought to be. I betrayed the trust of those who supported me. I have betrayed. Someone stole my joy, the smile and the will to live. I'm sitting here in this empty church because I would be lying at the foot of the altar to be present at my funeral. Only at that moment you jump out of all those who loved her. Before no ... that's funny true? Before no one beside you, no one who will restore the soul you lost. Just then the breath of life comes out of you and you become another of their eyes. I do not like, you know? I wish people would open their eyes, I saw how they really made in and accept me as I am, before I die. It can hurt, maybe that's why people under the illusion that you are different from what you are and then we are left disappointed when he discovers that he only deluded. But you can you do if you have always shown how you been? The illusion is their fault, not yours.
You no, I'm not sure you're wrong about people. You know what we have inside. For better or for worse. And let us choose whether to fight our fight or give up and leave the field. How many times I jumped in mind to stop and get off this bus? Thousands ... since I was a kid ... but I will always formed the idea that a defeat was down and I'm not a loser. I just sling the bull arena rather than give up the idea of \u200b\u200btrying to fight. I'm just like. Perhaps they are luckier than women: she had neither force nor reason to fight, maybe. Or maybe not? I am no one to judge. But you, yes ... do not bother with her even if he was wrong. Not after that life has given her nothing. At least you, in your infinite mercy from something to hold on. Although it is now too late. Who says it's late?
How strange ... You know? I do not feel alone anymore. I look around, but no one entered the door. I feel a bit 'warmer inside, the heat which is good, in which we can cuddle and sleep ... is like ... I do not know ... It is as if there was more light around here .. as if I were in the spotlight and taking themselves a monologue to an audience that listens silently off the stage. I do not see my audience, but I feel the breath and the attention on me. Are you my audience? Eh? You who are listening to me? If I had known it was so easy to get your attention I was coming first, years and years ago ... I do not know ... it is as if I had a little 'sweetness more than in and want to continue to believe that one day things can change. Why is this the end, no? It 's the fear of not having more dreams that kills us inside. Just get one, only one, and things change, the hopes are reborn, revived the desire to walk a little more 'to see if things are exactly as you think. You are this hope? Who knows ... I know that just before entering I felt this feeling of hope .. now something is changing ... has changed ... I am convinced that basically there is nothing that is not worth living ... I wonder if that woman were to come here instead of jumping out the window, I wonder if his heart could have been formed just a little hope ...
Or maybe it's just an illusion ... Have you ever suffered? You have never yielded to temptation? You've never been stifled by the pain? No, You do not know, nor pain, nor temptations. We are not like you. You know very well and can not figure ... You make fun of us, our hardships, our way of interpreting inconsistent life.
Please God, not now. Do not mock me. I came here to beg for this. I hear something that stirs in me and I know that is your work. I thank you not now. Thank you when I realize to be in your arms, because it still seems to me to walk alone. But you're wrong ... should meddle more of our life and make you feel more. Brings hope to those who think they do not have more. Bring your warmth to those who die in the cold indifference. Sometimes they are a thousand small problems where we feel suffocated. Yet just enough to make us see things differently. Do ... costs you nothing, but cost us a life or maybe even two, three ...
I get ... a bit 'puzzled that long monologue. The church is still empty, wrapped in that light a little 'odd one slips through the mosaics on the roof of the two aisles. I set out among the desks, when suddenly I hear a noise. I turn and several benches on, just where I was sitting before, I see a woman. I did not see go, probably came from one of the side entrances. E 'kneeling on the bench with his head resting against the back of the bench in front of her and her body trembles in sobs. I would go back, but suddenly something happens that stops me, a huge beam of light rests upon it, while a little 'heat of that light comes to me. I have the impression that something is lifting the woman to go to the source of that light, something dark and smoky that she moves towards the light, while the tears slowly fades until they ceased. The woman sits, clasping her hands in prayer and after a while 'gets up and walks away.
Turn your back to walk towards the exit and I feel like a hand on my shoulder. I turned around but there is none. A bit 'strange, shooting out the door for me seems strangely lighter. "Can not" think. Yet suddenly I myself feel lighter, as if someone had taken some of the weight I had in me when I entered and had given me even more forcefully as I left. The sun dazzles me but I'm not afraid anymore.
I do not understand what happened in the last ten minutes.
But perhaps it is not necessary for me to understand ...
