Broken Dreams.

Italian version.

Every Monday, at 21:00 a “White paper”. That is a “sheet” in which I write what I think, something about my life, reflections and thoughts. Something semi-autobiographical, indirect stories of my life.

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Do you remember, when we believed as children, that we would have a bright future? Do you remember that you thought that at the age you are today, you imagined yourself settled, teacher, with a better life? Do you remember?

Do you remember that you started a specific path to be able to achieve this goal?

You started university like me, yes, you who read, you will have started walking your own path, and as a young man, like me, you believed it. Are you still in this life too? Have you started looking back? Maybe we don’t have to look at each other, though, you know … otherwise we get lost in regrets, and in everything else. It scares me.

But I imagined different, you know.

Maybe, when our parents made us, they thought the world would get better, yet it continues to get worse. We have been lost for a while.

It seems to me that I just have the desire to resign myself, to surrender. I write, yes, but I do not see the satisfaction I would like. I wonder if I should stop, after all.

Maybe I shouldn’t do it every day, maybe I should give up.

But I think that maybe I should refine what I write, without increasing or decreasing, trying to improve what is there.

How did life go?

I think of everything that was there, that there was, I look at what is there today. Somewhere many pieces have been lost. In 2021, a lot of them were lost.

I have the feeling of incompleteness, incompleteness, there is no longer the moment when I can say that what is there is enough for me. I’d lie to myself, and I don’t want to.

What I have, what is there, is it really what I deserve? It’s not that I really wanted to have what I had dreamed of as a boy, but … not even that.

Maybe I should take a break, but not from writing, but from a lot of things.

From friendships, from cravings, from everything that makes me feel incomplete. Like those various times when I can’t feel I’ve taken a step forward. Like those times when I seem to be deceived, made fun of.

Like when I’m with people who seem to preach bullshit. Professing friends, and then disappearing. I’m still here to wait and see if anything happens to prove me wrong.

But the problem is the expectation.

And do you know what is the thing, the lack of expectation, that no one seems to think about? Expecting something.

In the end I still don’t have much of what I wanted, but deep down, instead of waiting for it, I tried, I think I do my best, but it almost never happens that I have achieved a result for my efforts.

And, on the other hand, there is only renunciation.

I wonder what would happen if I resigned myself once and for all.

I did not expect similar damage for this generational defeat of ours. Honestly, I look around, and I see that many have not fulfilled their goals, their dreams.

Perhaps, by now, there is an excess of rationality, and I must have had it too, because stopping believing makes you feel empty, as if there was so much blackness, on which you cannot write.

We got lost, that’s the truth.

At a certain point we stopped counting, and perhaps, even if we stopped believing it, it seems that only the others go on, in a way that makes me think: “easily disarming”.

Like when you see beautiful girls, with whom you may even have fallen in love, go after obvious bad things, or in any case people in whom it seems that love is absent, yet, women go crazy, and we go crazy about them.

Or like when I see posts in which they write 4 stupid and trite words, and I, who write more, receive less “like”. I feel dejected, yet this is my dream.

What should I do, what should we do, many of us, who are lost? Accepting, and continuing to do so, in the end, they plunged into a void, with no way out.

Someone told us to “accept” and “be satisfied”, because otherwise you feel bad, or you are disappointed.

Like when they thought they had to “stop” me at all costs, and still it seems that it is, as if I were a “supervillain”, seriously, as if I were a “Thanos”.

But I should be careful, and close the shutters, and almost do it at home, at least for a while, because I feel more and more destroyed.

But I have to rebuild.

I’m afraid my generation has failed miserably.

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