When the world seems on the brink, when everything around us becomes hostile, fearful and gray, we take refuge in what makes us feel safe, in what seems familiar, pleasant, hot. I take refuge here, in writing. Tomorrow is Valentine's Day, the feast of love and I I never felt so lost. Feel of being on the verge of a big leap and, depending on the run that I can take, I will be able to reach the other side unharmed. There are no half measures, there is no compromise and there will be hands ready to grab the fly away. This time there's only me and, although with a large weight in my heart, I feel suddenly a new awareness of myself. Yes, I am. I am that I am driving my life, I decide what direction to take that step by step build my future. What makes me feel good to write here. The words, when run on keyboard, release the soul from the pain, emptying it on the page. I woke from a confused stupor, as from the sleep of anesthesia. Of course, I wanted to go to sleep to not feel bad, but it was not the reality, that was around me. I was no longer me. Now I have recovered what I was, my values, my pride, my desire to do and, yes, even my weakness, that in a desperate attempt to protect my spirit, strength and becomes pushes me forward, toward what is yet to come. So, how Montale writes, "... the light turns miserly, bitter soul ...", and yet I am, I'm here, ready to fight to be happy again. Who cares what will happen? Will be new, and it will be nice to me. The past is so named because it concluded. The beautiful memories are mixed with those terrible, but they make us who we are and no one should ever be deleted. The important thing is not to be afraid of what will be, the important thing is not to be afraid to be strong and push forward a foot to the other and continue walking, then running. We are who we are, we are human, imperfect, but with so many possibilities, with dreams to realize and infinite love to give to others. This, one should never forget that.
I leave you with a book of the soul, heal the darkness in you, bringing the sun into your life: Todo el amor, by Pablo Neruda. How much responsibility to weigh on lightweight paper of these pages, but I am sure you will like.
Because in the end is so, life is poetry.
To my dear readers, good night. Your
Lizzy
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