Just Maybe Forse Ciao

At times, they say, she makes things up She sees things the way she feels like seeing them She creates romance and fairytales also dark ones with scary monsters and she behaves like it's the end of the world. What no-one really knows is that she never does make things up. She just sees things differently She fears monsters when they are not there to be prepared for the real ones she'll meet and she believes in fairytales  because she wants to be part of someone's story. And she believes in romance when someone else does not especially because that someone else does not.  There needs to be love in everything she does all the energy required of her everyday, relentlessly,  in all the energy she wasted she needs to prioritise love,  she chooses love.  So, you, yes you,  don't you see that if she wishes to love you not that much just a little bit more than now if she wishes to keep the door stupidly open if she wishes f...

She cannot feel her heart.  And when she'll finally breathe normally again,  she is sure, this time, she won't have much more to break  in her heart after all.  What she thought was her best self is not sufficient to even create a shadow of a doubt for him. He has no signs to ever think she could be more.  He said he has no signs.  How can he have no signs? Again. What was it this time?  What was wrong with her? What was the fatal error that makes him so sure? Did she talk too much? Is she not attractive enough? Did she laugh too loud? Didn't she listen enough? Was she really that judgy? Could she do more? Or less? Couldn't she be someone else instead? He doesn't know how hard it is when you cannot go back when you lose your mind because you feel trapped in a version of you that is at the same time the best and the worst,  cause it is what you wish to be and that is still not en...

This made up - made-believe - story of hers is ending.  It is already over,  She can see the slow death before her eyes  and through her heart and he still hasn't got a name. All the men who meant something to her  have a stage name. The stage of their performance in her life willingly or unwillingly occupied. He does not want to talk about her and he does not want to talk about himself either and yet he is the Man-who-makes-her-laugh as he talks about life as if there was always a way to solve things with  triviality. He does not want to talk about love and he does not want to talk about sex or intimacy and yet he is her Revolution Man as because of him she managed to utter revolutionary truths about love and sex and intimacy, which she will never be able to forget or let go. He does not need to see her and he does not listens to her, when he does not like the meaning of her discourses, he simply ignores them and y...

She always thought that grey areas are already black.  That everything, every apparent shade of grey is always a little darker or lighter, whiter or blacker than it appears. She has always thought that grey areas are already black cause in-between for her is backwards maybe is no later is never.  No patience to wait never had it.  Damn, she needs the sea. She needs to breathe the open. And yet she needs for someone not to give up on her. He is grey to her.  Is he giving up on her?  Is he investing on her? But more importantly is she giving up on him? It's too difficult, too difficult this time. And she does not allow the grey area,  she needs precision even in rejection even in confusion. Who said you cannot be precise even when you are confused? Like the sea when it's wavy and upset and messes up water and shores and yet never ceases to have boundaries.  She wants attention as she gives attention. Wh...