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Aveva a che fare con la serenità e con la speranza. Tutto quello che cerchiamo, no? Un posto nel mondo da cui non desiderare di andare via, qualcosa di bello alle porte, ma più bello ancora mentre lo immaginiamo, accucciati in quel luogo che, se siamo fortunati, è un abbraccio. Romantico? Io? Nei giorni dispari. Ma so contare solo fino a uno. I progetti a medio termine mi affaticano, quelli a lungo non li considero. Non mi sono mai aspettato molto da me stesso, non avevo la pazienza per farlo. E' venuto fuori che ho già fatto più di quanto mi sarei mai potuto attendere se mi fossi messo lì, alla stazione delle illusioni, ad aspettare il treno che passa una volta sola. Credo ai passaggi circolari. Prima o poi, anche i treni tornano. Sono trenini giocattolo, la rotaia va in tondo. Siamo seri, stiamo giocando.

[Gabriele Romagnoli]

(It had to do with tranquility and hope. That’s all we look for, no? A place in the world from where we never want to leave, something beautiful at your door, that looks even better while we imagine it, nestled in that place which, if we’re lucky, is a warm hug. Romantic? Me? Only on odd days. But I can only count to one. Mid-term projects wear me out; I don’t even consider long-term ones. I never expected much from myself, I wasn’t patient enough. It turned out I already did more than I could expect for myself even if I had sat there, at delusion station, waiting for the once-in-a-lifetime train. I believe in circular motion. Sooner or later, even trains come by again. They're toy trains; the track's a circle. Let’s be serious, we’re playing.)

Forgive ~ part III

it did backfire. not quite unexpectedly, but i guess one (i?) never stops hoping. i tried, at least i can say that. i feel abysmally stupid for even trying now, what did i think i'd accomplish? and it hurts, it's like being pushed under water and not given the chance to stock up on oxygen. being stabbed. strangled, rather. no other way to put it, unfortunately. it took a while to get to this point, to be able to forgive and try to give some relief to who had asked for forgiveness. i was so stupid to really, honestly, deeply think it was the right thing to do, that it was an act of civility to offer forgiveness, to offer a hand, that it was morally right. and what did i get? venom, recrimination, accusations, anger, jealousy, hatred.

then what's the point? now all this has accomplished is that it made me regret doing what i thought was right. made me regret trying. made me regret being what i am. and what is the point in trying to do well by people, in trying to be a decent human being, if all it brings is pain?

will i ever stop being so naive?

hfd

I don't.
I just envy them.

free

2D freedom
only goes
as far
as
the border
of the
page

wrong turn?

where did i go wrong?
which turn did i miss?
which gut feeling didn't i pursue?
which open window did i ignore?

why does it feel like i'm always too little too late?
why does it feel like i'm in the right place, but at the wrong time?

why does it seem like people trying to comfort end up saying the same (painful) things over and over?

it's like 10,000 spoons when all you need is a knife

give me a word to keep me warm at night...

Forgive ~ part II

I have offered forgiveness, and even though it feels like a brick has been lifted off my stomach (I profoundly despise grudges), I sincerely hope it doesn't backfire.

I just wish it'll offer relief, closure, hope, insight, to all the people involved.

Enough about me ~ let's talk about you for a minute

If I could sit with you, if I could talk to you, if I could bring myself to look at you in the eyes without feeling the throbbing of the knife still comfortably lodged in my chest, I really don't know where I'd start from. There are just too many questions, too many unanswered uncertainties, and I know I'd open my mouth, attempt to speak, and the words would die in my mouth, sucked back down the throat by the grabbing, blood-soaked claws of pain swallowed for way too long.

I'd ask you why.
I'd ask you if caring about me really has to be so damn hard.
I'd ask you if your fear is so overwhelming that it can wipe away any attachment to me.
I'd ask you why you were never there to dry my tears.
I'd ask you if you ever even saw my tears.
Or heard my cries.

I'd tell you that, in spite of the pain, constant and piercing, I am unable to sever the invisible rope that ties me to you.
I'd tell you that there's not a single day in which I don't think of you, pray for your safety, or your happiness.
I'd tell you that there's not a single day in which I don't imagine your smile, hear the crisp, deep, familiar sound of your voice, see the shape of your hands.

When're you gonna make up your mind?
When're you gonna love you as much as I do?
When're you gonna make up your mind?
'Cause things are gonna change so fast

I'd ask you if you ever think about me.
I'd ask you if I ever cross your mind at night, before you fall asleep.
I'd ask you if I ever cross your mind in the morning, when you wake up.
I'd ask you if you'll ever share your secrets with me, let me in, instead of locking me out.
I'd ask you if you ever miss me.

I'd tell you that so many songs speak to me about you.
I'd tell you that many times I wanted to call you, just to hear your voice.
I'd tell you about my fears, and dreams, and random thoughts that never find their space on a page.
I'd tell you that your indifference tears me into pieces.
Every day a bit more.

And I wonder if it even makes a difference to try.
I wonder if it even makes a difference to cry.

~ il tempo e' tiranno ~

what's the use

if you are

always

too late?

?