Italian version: here.
If you are able to have a certain level of awareness, you can understand that the fateful question: “Would you change anything if I could go back?”
The best answer to give would be: “nothing”, the most sincere one is “everything”.
But the fact is that even if one hadn’t written anything, certain things would have happened anyway. If there is something that breaks, it cannot be repaired, if you don’t want to do it. You can, but you don’t want to.
I could say that I didn’t want to say and write some things, but… I have some experience and familiarity with some things in life.
Perhaps, however, even if there is not a total cut, initially, there will still be later. And these things teach me also from the experiences of others: if you argue too much with someone, you come to the breaking point, anyway.
Even if I hadn’t encrypted the first white paper, full of “***”, I think it would have come to the same point anyway. Maybe not immediately, but… if you don’t want to recover, to listen, to understand, it seems quite logical to me that no one can really do something about it.
And after all, who am I to say that this is not the case? A misunderstanding is always a misunderstanding. A wrong idea is always a wrong idea.
And it’s not for everyone to go beyond prejudice. I have them too, but I’m often not mistaken, if I’m not blinded by a feeling, or something like that, people catch them on the fly, and I understand how to avoid them.
But I always make an effort to go beyond prejudice, I like to challenge myself, sometimes I’ve changed my mind, and I’ve been proud of it.
Somehow having the open-mindedness that transports me to new places, which allows me to have the desire to go beyond quarrels, beyond paranoia, beyond bullshit.
And if there had not been, I would never have written any of this, if there had been a different way, a less aggressive way, in which I would have felt less in awe, without being judged, without being “cut off”. No obsession, fixation, or paranoia would exist. And maybe, I talked about my things, with the less suitable people, if these things were born, in the first instance.
Beyond the negative moments of people, trying to understand that even those moments in which we are lost are human, without ever being ashamed.
But on the other hand, it seems to see a constant fear of what the other might think, even of what I can think, often the one who is misjudged.
And to me, of many things that others do, I’m interested in zero. It’s their business, and I, unlike many, have no intention or desire to know them.
I wonder what drives them to do this. Malignancy? Ignorance? Boredom?
I often think that they are people who have gaps that they have to fill in some way, I would advise them to find a job, a hobby, some more constructive way to fill their days, life, perhaps.
But basically I tend to give a damn, as other people can give a damn about what I think, what I really think.
But as said before, nothing changes, just as I can’t really open skulls, just as I can’t really put into action the bad things that can come to my mind.
After having loved for so long, so uselessly, in the end what can we do? We remain and resist with total indifference, especially because, in fact, you cannot change certain things.
There are people who do not want to take the step forward, who remain frozen in old choices, in the idea of a version of you that no longer exists, dead and buried.
And I’m still here wondering if it was better this way …
I will never be able to try it, but I have a deep conviction that I could not change anything, even if I went back and changed things, hundreds of times. It seems that we are bound by destiny with the people we love, as well as who we will hate, with those who hate us, with whom we fight, always.
The only way, perhaps, would be to behave coldly, meeting the needs of other people, trying to understand them, but in this way we will have to, perhaps, forget and sacrifice ourselves.
In the end I don’t know if the unknown person was who I was in front of, or myself, who had changed, I was blind, and now I find myself again in a way that I don’t like, living almost sacrificed, not very free, suspicious, never free to to love, to feel loved, to want something different, as if I could no longer even write, think, like other people, gripped by the fear of being disappointed and hurt.
But I don’t want to live in fear, I want to dominate it: and then I won’t be distrustful out of fear, but to live better, to keep everything under control, and then, to be able to win, or in any case, have stable relationships, no longer with the people who judge. , which cause you the paranoia, with which I have wasted so much time …
I always thought, wrongly, that I was paranoid by nature, but it is not mine, it never was. I wasn’t paranoid myself, but because of other people, who gave birth to them. By questioning myself, for fear of doing wrong, but I have become tired, and I want to use the energies I have on the day, in a more constructive way.
And even if I had the strength to fight forever, I’m not the type to do it for lost causes.
I just have to live for better things, and hope that those who think too many thoughts one day can stop, to feel free.
But not for me: for them, in this flame of old myself that is becoming ashes, this altruism wasted on those who don’t have it for anyone.
And I’ll keep writing, for me. Forgive me, but this is the way, this is how I love to describe and write myself.
In every mood I have, and every feeling.