After 11:00

Around me everything is so silent and my soul is quiet. Thank you God for giving me this strength in my last moments.

I go by the window, my love: I look out and I still see, through the clouds, a few stars.

Eternity has both of us in its heart. I see the stars and think of you. Aren't you too around me? And didn't I, like a small child, take possession of each little thing you touched?

I left a message to you and your family asking to take care of my, I mean, my body. I want to be buried under those trees you know. You know which ones.

P., I am ready! I won't shake drinking from the cold, terrible cup of death. You gave it to me and I accept it. Everything! In this way I pay back the hopes I had in my life.

If I had been lucky enough to die for you! P., I'd give all myself for you! I'd die with courage, I'd die with joy, if I could give back peace and joy to your life.

I want to be buried with this clothes. You touched them, and they are sacred. My soul will float on the coffin. Nobody shall look in my pockets! That wristband you were wearing the first time I met you...

Give a kiss to your brothers and sisters, and tell them about me. I remember them all around me! I've been so close to you, haven't I? And I haven't been able to leave you since the first time I met you. That wristband, should be buried with me. You gave it to me for my birthday!

I wasn't thinking of all these things then.

I wasn't thinking that that path would have taken me to this.

Calm!

Please, keep calm!

It's sharp enough, I think. It's almost midnight. And so it is, P.

My love, Goodbye. Goodbye.

For the last time I saw nature. I saw the fields and the sky.

Goodbye everyone.

Mother, forgive me.

Everything is in order, I think.

Goodbye, I'll see you again.

I made a mess for everyone.

Goodbye.

I hope you shall all be happy.

Last day

I got a razor it cuts.
I kiss it because you gave it to me once. You Heavenly Spirit brought it to me.
I wanted to receive death from your hands, P., and I did.
Would you have said no to me?
You know you can't hate someone who loves you as much as I do.

For the last time, then, for the last time I open my eyes. They won't have to see the sun anymore. The mist hid it from me today. Be sad, Nature! Your son, your friend, your lover is getting closer to his end. P.! I feel something hard to describe, kinda similar to a dream, when I say to myself:" THis is my last day, my last!".
P., I don't understand this word, "last". Am I not here full of life? And tomorrow, I'll be lying on the floor, cold. TO die! What does it mean? You see, us, when we speak of death, we dream. I saw many die, but human beings are so limited they can't give a reason to the end of their being. Am I still mine or yours now? Yours, my love! ANd, after only just a second, separated, detached forever! No, P., no! How can I, how can you, pass away? We ARE! To pass away, to end! What does it mean? One more word, an empty sound....that doesn't find a corrispondence in my heart. Dead,P., hidden inside the cold ground, so cold, so dark!
When i was little I had a girl friend who was very important for me. She died and I remember going to her funeral. I remember standing by the hole where the coffin was, this sound that seemed to come from the coffin itself as they threw soil on it. I didn't understand.
"Death" "grave", they're words I don't understand.
Forgive me. Yesterday.....It should have been my last day. For the first time, for the first time, this thought ran through my whole body: 'he loves me!'
I knew it,that you love me, from the beginning. And yet, everytime I was with you and your girlfriend I went back to my state of fear, of frustration.
But every little sign of your love for me meant everything to me.
These memories are perhaps destined to fade away, but no eternity at all will erase the taste of your lips from my lips, the feeling of your body in my arms.
You are mine, P.
You are mine forever.

What does it mean that she is your girlfriend? Girlfriend! What does it mean in this world the fact that I love you and I wish to take you away from her to make you mine? I feel guilty for this.
But, from this moment, you are mine P. Mine!
I'll go forward and you'll come too and I'll fly to you and I'll hold you in my arms and I'll be close to you in front of the Infinite forever.
I'm not dreaming! I'm not crazy. We will exist! We will see each other!

Ossian (last)

Why do you awaken me, spring wind? You stroke and say: "I carry dew from the sky! But near is the time of me death: next is the storm which will throw all my leaves to the ground. Tomorrow the traveller will come here, he will come who saw me in my beauty, his eyes will look for me all around in the fields, but he won't find me.

Ossian

ALPIN

My tears, oh Ryno, are for the killed one. my voice is for the inhabitants of the grave. Agile you move on the hill, among the children of the land. But you will fall like Morar and on your tomb will sit that whom cries for you. The mountains will forget you; your bow will be left in the room.
You were fast, oh Morar, like a deer on a hill, you were as terrible as the nocturn flames of the sky. Your frowning was like a tempest, your sword in was like a thunderbolt over the land. Your voice was like a river after the rain, like a thunder on the faraway lands. Many died because of you. THe flame of your anger killed them. But when you came back from war your forehead was so smooth! Your face was similar to the sun after the storm, similar to the moon in the silence of the night. calm was your chest like the sea when the wind ceases to blow.
Your house is now small! Dark your place. WIth three steps I can measure your tomb, you who used to be so big! Four stones are the only memory of you and a leafless tree, and some grass that murmurs in the wind. They point to the the eye of the hunter the grave of the powerful Morar. You don't have a mother crying for you, or a girl whose tears are full of love. Dead is she who gave birth to you: dead is the daughter of Morglan.
WHo is this who leans against the stick? WHo is this whose head is white from the years, whose eyes are red from the tears? It is your father, oh Morar! THe father of no other son but you. He heard about your fame in war. He heard of the enemies defeated by you. He heard of the glory of Morar! But nothing about his wound. Cry, father of Morar, cry! But your son will not hear you. Deep is the sleep of the dead, low is their pillow of dust. Never again will he hear your voice. never again will he awake at your call. When will the morning come to the tomb, to order the sleeper: "C'mon, wake up?"
Farewell, noblest amongst men and winner on the battlefield! But the field will never see you again. Never again your sword will shine in the dark forest! You didn't leave any children, but music will keep your name alive: the future will hear your name, of the fallen Morar.
Loud was the voice that cried for the heroes:louder was Armin's desperate sighing. He remembers his son's death. By the hero sat Carmor, prince of Galmal. Why is Armin crying? he said. why does one have to cry here? Aren't these songs full of joy and sweetness? They are like a soft mist that, crawling from the lake, expands in the valley and fills everything up. But then the sun comes back with all his strength, and the mist is gone. Why are you so sad, Armin, lord of Gorma surrounded by water?
Crying? Oh yes, I am, and it's not for nothing. You, Carmor, haven't lost a son, you haven't lost a daughter. Colgar is alive and alive is Annira, most beautiful among girls. The bows in your garden are flowering, oh Carmor! But Armin is the last of his family. Dark is your bed, oh Daura. Sad in the grave your sleep. When will you wake up with your songs, with your sweet voice?
C'mon, autumn winds, c'mon! Fall on the dark land! Waters, flow, howl in the forest!
Moon, creep through the broken clouds; show your pale face. Remind me of the terrible night when my children died, when Arindal and Daura died.
Oh Daura, my daugther, you were so beautiful! As beautiful as the moon on the plans of Fura, as white as fresh snow, as sweet as as the air we breathe. Arindal! Your bow was strong, your spear fast; your glare was like foam on the crest of the wave, and your shield like a cloud of fire in the storm.
Armar had come to ask the love of Daura: she hadn't resisted him long. They had good hopes.
Erath, son of Odgal, was angry because Armar had killed his brother. He came disguised as a sailor. His hip was beautiful on the waves; his hair was white from the years, his face severe.
"Oh beautiful amongst the ladies" he said "oh gentle daughter of Armin!THere by the cliff that is not far from the sea; there where the fruits shine red on the tree, Armar waits for Daura. I am here to lead his love across the sea."
SHe followed him and called for Armar; but only the voice of the rock answered. "Oh Armar, my love, why do you cause me so much pain? Listen to me, son of Arnath! Listen to me! THis is Daura!"
Erath, the traitor, ran away laughing. SHe shouted, called her father and brother:" Armin, Arindal! Will none of you save their Daura?"
Her voice ran across the sea. From the hill down came Arindal, my son, hardened by hunting. His spears resonated on his side. He held his bow and around him ran five dogs. He saw Erath on the shore, he grabbed him and tied him to a tre. So tied, he filled the wind with moans.
TO lead Daura back, Arindal went into the sea with Erath's boat. In that moment, Armar arrived angry and he killed Arindal, oh my son! Instead of the traitor Erath you lost your life! THe boat got to the shore and there you died. Your brother's blood wet your feet. And your mourning, Daura, was so long!
THe waves destroyed the boat. Armar threw himself in the sea to save Daura or to die. A wind blow beat the waves. He drowned and never reappeared again.
Alone, on the shore, I could hear my daughter's laments. Several and loud were her screams, but her father could not save her. All night I spent on the shore. I saw her in the dim moon light. All night I heard her scream. THe wind was noisy and the rain beat on the mountains. Her voice became weaker before sunrise, and she died like the morning breeze through the grass. SHe died from pain and she left Armin alone. My strength has vanished. My pride among women has gone. When snow storms come from the mountains, when the North wind lifts the waves up, I sit on this shore and look at the terrible cliff. Often. when the moon sets, I can see the spirits of my children.
Like soft lights they dance together in a quiet acceptance.

Ossian

RYNO

Rain and wind have passed, the afternoon is clear and the clouds have broken. The hills are brightened by the changeable sun. The river descends reddish into the valley. Your murmur is sweet, river, but even sweeter is the voice that I hear. It is Alpin's voice who cries the dead. His head is bent by time and his eye is red from the tears. Alpin, sweet singer! Why do you stand alone on the silent hill? WHy do you moan like the wind that blows in the woods, like the wave on the distant shore?

Ossian

Night star that falls, you, beautiful, west shine; you lift from your cloud your majestic head and cover the valleys. What are you looking at? The tempestuous winds are calm now; the murmuring of the river comes from far away; down there, waves break against the cliff; insects buzz in the night fields. What are you looking at, fair light? You smile and go; the waves surround you, merry, and they wet your ethereal hair. Hail to you, placid ray! You appear, marvellous light of the soul of Ossian! And he, in all his strength, appears. I see that my friends are not together anymore. They go to the Lora like in those old past days. Fingal arrives like a sweaty column of mist and his heroes gravitate around him, and here are the bards of the song: the grey Ullin, the merry Ryno, Alpin, gentle singer, and you Minona, feeble voice! How you all have changed, my friends, from the party days of Selma, when we used to compete with songs! Like the subtle winds of spring, they bend the tender grass that, submitted, murmurs!

And that's when, in her beauty, came Minona, with her eyes low and wet. Her hair was blowing in the mutable wind. The soul of all heroes grew sad when she let her cry out, as often they had seen the tomb of Salgar; and often the dark house of the white Colma on the hill, of Colma of the harmonious voice. Salgar promised to come. But night was coming. Listen to Colma's voice, when she was alone on the hill.

COLMA

It is night. Alone I am and lost on the hill in the storm. The wind blows in the mountains. The river screams down the rocks. There's no shelter to protect me from the rain, I am abandoned on the hill.

Come out, Moon, from your clouds! Stars of the night, appear! Let a ray fall to guide me here, where my love rests after hunting; with his bow beside him and his dogs around him. But i have to stay here on the rocks, in the river. The stream screams and the storm storms and I can't hear my lover's voice.

Why is my Salgar hesitating? Has he forgotten his promise? Here are the cliff, the tree and the waterfall. You promised me to be here when night would fall. Where is my Salgar? I wanted to run away with you, leave my father and my brother, those two vain men! Our families have been enemies for a long time, but we are not enemies, Salgar!

Shut up one second, wind! Stop for a moment, water! let my voice echo in the valley. let my lover, Salgar, hear me. I am the one calling. Here is the tree; here is the cliff! Salgar, my love, I am here. Why do you hesitate?

Look: the Moon has appeared. the water shines, the rocks look grey. But I can't see him on the hill, nor him nor his dogs. I have to stay here alone.

Oh, but who's there in the valley? My loved one? My brother? Speak, my dear!

But they don't answer. My soul is lost. They're dead! Their swords are red with blood from the battle. Oh brother, brother! Why have you killed my Salgar? Oh Salgar, why have you killed my brother? I loved you both! You were the most beautiful of them all. He was, in war, fearful. Answer me! Listen to my voice, my dear ones! But they are mute. Forever mute. Their chests as cold as soil!

From the rocks of the hill, from the top of the mountain, speak, spirits of the dead! Speak, I won't be scared. Where did you find peace? Where will I find you again? I can't hear any answer in the wind, or in the storm.

I sit here in my panic and crying I wait for morning to come. Dig the grave, friends of the dead, but don't close it until I arrive. Like a dream, my life vanishes. How could I survive? Here, with my dear ones, I want to live, by the water stream and the cliff.

When night will fall on the hill, my spirit will be in the wind and it will cry the death of my loved ones. The hunter will hear me in the trees. He will both fear and love my voice, because it my voice will be dear to my loved ones. I loved them both so much!

This was your song, daughter of Torman, o Minona who used to blush shyly. Our tears were poured for Colma and our soul became dark.

Ullin came forward with his harp and he sang the song of Alpin. Gentle was Alpin's voice and Ryno's soul was a ray of fire. But they were already resting in the narrow dome and their voice couldn't be heard in Selma anymore.

Once Ullin was coming back from hunting before the heroes were defeated, and he heard a singing contest on the hill. The singing was beautiful but sad. It was about the end of Morar, the first of all heroes. His soul was like the soul of Fingal, his sword was like the sword of Oskar. But he died and his father cried his death and his sister's eyes were full of tears. Minona's eyes were full of tears, the sister of the beautiful Morar.

She left before Ullin's song like the moon leaves when a storm is about to come, and she hides her beautiful head behind a cloud. I played the harp with Ullin.

You're not waiting for me. You believe that I'm obedient and that I won't be seeing you until Christmas Eve. P.: today and then never again! On Christmas Eve, you'll be reading this and you'll cry on your computer, you'll shake. I want, I must!

It's so good to feel determinate!

I have decided one thing P., NOW. I want to die. and I'm writing it without any romantic excitement, calm, on the day I will last see you. When you, my love, will read this, the cold soil will already be covering the rigid body of this restless idiot who, in the last moments of his life, cannot find any sweetness apart from talking to you. I just spent a horrible day and, yes, a beneficial day. And you convinced me even more: I want to DIE! When yesterday I left you I felt so excited, and everything went against my heart and I was suffocated by the sight of a life with you, a cold, desperate and unhappy life, then I got to my room I fell on my bed and I cried. I cried A thousand images, a thousand initiatives went through my soul and, finally, a last one rose above all the others: I want to die!

I fell asleep and now waking up the thought is still there in my mind, and strong in my heart: I want to die!

It isn't desperation. It is certainty that I have suffered all I had to suffer, and that I want to sacrifice myself for you. Yes, P. Why should I shut up? One of us three has to disappear and I want to be that one! My love.....I thought so many times to kill your girlfriend or you, or myself! ANd so, this should be.

Remember me

on a nice summer evening

when you climb on a mountain

look downhill

there will be my tomb

where the wind blows

in the light of the sunset.

I was calm when I started writing and now I'm crying like a child. Everything around me breathes.

20 December

You're right, yes.

It'd be better for me if I got the hell out of here. Perhaps go back where I came from, even though I'd also like to hesitate for a while. I would like you to come pick me up when I get there too. Just, wait fifteen more days. Fifteen days mean a lot you know. Tell my mother to pray for her son and ask her to forgive him. It's been my destiny to bring pain to those who deserved joy instead.

Farewell. Farewell.

His presence, his destiny, his interest for mine, have squeezed the last few tears I had in my dry brain.

To go beyond....that's all there is. And why all this hesitation and this waiting? Why don't we know what things look like beyond there? And why can't we come back? Why is it implanted in us to imagine trouble and darkness there where there is something we do not know?

What's going on? LOL....I'm scared of myself. Isn't my love for him the holiest, purest, more innocent love of all? COz I mean I've never even touched him...and now: dreams! Last night I was holding him in my arms. I held him tight to my chest and I kissed his lips passionately for hours. My eyes vanished in the vastness of his glare!

WHy is it so painful now to keep reminding myself of those moments? P.!! It is over for me. All my senses are messed up. I haven't been able to think for like eight days. I've been crying like a baby. I can't stand any place and, at the same time, I can't be bothered about leaving. I desire nothing and ask for nothing.

IT WOULD BE A LOT BETTER FOR ME TO GO FOREVER.

I feel like I am in the same condition as a person possessed by a demon. Sometimes I feel kinda possessed myself, and it's not fear nor desire....it is a mysterious storm which threatens to tear my chest apart and which grabs my neck tight. : ((((( And so I have to wander aimlessly in the night of this inhumane moment of my life.

Last night I went out. I got to the river around eleven - ish. Ther river was lit by the moon light, it was a scary view. I imagined it to be an ocean, during a storm. I imagined the waves exploding in front of me, the wind blowing, the blackness of the sky swallowing everything. And I was shaken by a shiver of terror and, at the same time, of desire. Yes, I was standing with my arms open in front of the abyss and I was thinking 'Down! Down!'. And I was getting lost in the longing of being swallowed by that imaginary storm and lose my pain, and to be taken away by the waves. But you didn't dare lifting your foot and stepping forward to put an end to it, did you!

My time isn't over yet. I feel it.

But I would have gladly given my body away to be able to tear those clouds apart and to grab those waves! I wonder if I'll ever be able to do that?

And so, sad as I was, I looked for this place under a tree I had once sat with P. after a walk. But it was too dark and I could barely spot it.

And I started to imagine this area completely flooded by the river, and the a larger area, and slowly the whole region was flooded. And I was the only one left there, alone, dreaming of the past, of fields, of the sun which didn't exist anymore.

And I was still there but I wasn't angry with myself, because I was brave enough to die, if I wanted to...I would be....but I keep prolonging whatever there is to prolong for unknown reasons

First Birthday Last

His figure is always following me! When I'm awake and when I'm alseep, it fills up my whole soul! Here, if I close my eyes, in my forehead, where the visual power reigns, are his black eyes. HERE!

SHit, I can't describe.....

If I close my eyes, they are in front of me, they are IN me. they fill the senses in my forehead.

WHAT is man, the glorified semi god? DOesn't he lack strength exactly when he most needs it? And, if he floats high up in joy, and then sinks in pain, isn't he anyway called back to reality, one that is cold and BORING, just when he would have desired to lose himself in the infinite?

Please....it's obvious. Everything's over for me. I can't stand this anymore!

Today I was at his place. I was sitting down. He was playing the piano, different melodies, and he was putting so much of himself in it. His little sister was sitting on my lap, playing with a doll. I was gonna cry, really. And I did, lol. He started playing this old tune we were always listening to together and, suddenly, I felt some sort of comfort and started remembering the past, the times when we used to listen to that song, the somber pauses, the boredom, the disappointment and the hopes, and then....I started walking up and down the room like a zombie coz my heart was gonna explode, full as it was with all those memories.

"Stop it, for Fingal's sake!" I said. (yeah well I didn't REALLY said "Fingal's sake",I just really wanted to write it here)

"Stop IT!"

"Oscar" he said with a smile that made my legs feel like they were made of jelly "Oscar, I think you're not feeling well...I mean, maybe you should go home and take it easy."

I had to drag myself away from him with all my will power and...gods and goddesses!

I am fucked up! Am I?

Ehm...the man I wrote about yesterday: the happy unhappy, he used to work for P.'s dad and you know what? Apparently he was fired because of this strange passion he had for the son of his head officer!! This was told me last night by no one else but P.'s girlfriend...I feel so confused.

Should I, or should I not, go back to being myself? Everywhere I go I bump into something that astonishes me. Like today, for example. Oh destiny! Oh, humanity!

I was walking along the river around midday. I wasn't hungry. Everything was sad. A cold and damp wind was blowing from some invisible mountain, and the grey clouds, pregnant with rain, were quickly approaching. From a distance I saw a man wearing a green coat rummaging in the garbage that covered most of the area surrounding the river, as if he were looking for something. When I approached him and he, hearing the noise of my steps, turned around, I saw an interesting face kind of tainted by pain, but that pain was also the essential part of his expression, if you know what I mean. He was younger than I had expected. His hair was black and long, tied up in a pony tail. I asked him what he was looking for, just out of boredom.

"Flowers!" he said, "and I can't find any."

"But it's not the right season!" I told him, smiling.

"There are many flowers," he said "in my garden there are roses and honeysuckles of two types. one, my dad gave to me! They grow so quickly...but I've been looking for them for two days already and I can't find them. Even out here there's always flowers, yellow, blue and red, but I can't find any."

I realised there was something weird about him (!!) so I tried to take control of the conversation.

"But, what do you want to do with the flowers?" I asked him.

He smiled in a weird way and said "if you promise you're not gonna tell anybody, I'll tell you that I promised I'm going to give a bouquet to my girlfriend!"

"That's nice" I said.

"Oh, she's got everything she wants" he said, "she's rich!"

and I was like "And yet I'm sure some flowers will be a nice surprise"

"Yeah but she's got jewels and a crown!" he carried on

"And what's her name?" I asked

But he just continued "if I could get some money myself I would be a different person...I used to be well-off once...but now everything's finished for me! Now I am..." and he looked like he was gonna cry or something.

"So, you were happy once?" I asked

"Hell yes! I wish I were as I used to be! I used to be happy all the time, as light as a feather..."

"Henry!" an old woman (who suddenly appeared) yelled. "Where the hell have you been? I've been lookin for you for hours! Come eat!"

"Is he your son?" I asked her.

"Yes, he sure is my son...God gave me a heavy cross to carry..."

"How long has he been like this, if I can ask?"

"This quiet, for a few months...and thank God he is like this now! Before, for a whole year, he was a nightmare, we had to tie him up sometimes. Now he is fine, only, he's always making up stories about kings and emperors. He was such a good boy and he used to write so well...Then suddenly everything went dark for him. He became ill, and then angry. Now he is as you've seen him. If I had to start telling you the story from the beginning..."

I stopped her flow of words to ask her "What period was it then the one he describes as being a happy one?"

"Poor him..." she sighed with a sad smile "He means the time when he was out of his mind. He's always talking about it as the best time, when he was locked up and he didn't understand anything at all!"

These words made me feel sort of ,dunno, weird. But it was enough to decide to leave them.

"So, he was happy" I was then thinking. "Human beings are then doomed to be perfectly happy only when they haven't acquired reason yet, and when they lose it! And now he is unhappy...and yet, I envy his melancholy and his spiritual turmoil. You go out full of hopes looking for flowers to give to your queen, in the winter! And you get depressed because you can't find any and you don't understand why that is. I, on the other hand, go out with no hope at all and with no goal at all, and I come home exactly the same way. You talk enthusiastically about the kind of man you could be if you had money. You are lucky, because you can attribute your unhappiness to a real obstacle. You don't feel that your sadness lies in your broken heart, in your fucked up brain, and that against that no king on earth could fight."

Anyone who laughs at an ill person who makes an effort to go a step further, who has some sort of goal despite everything, should die suffering. Each step that allows that person to walk a still unknown path is a little bit of hope gained.

And you think you can call this an illusion? You lazy bastards!! Illusion! What is there left if not Faith, faith in anything, (which is faith in God coz God really can be anything, don't you think?)

The belief that the extract of a root can heal, that a dream will come true, what is it if not some sort of power that surrounds everything and heals everything and comforts us?

Father, I don't know you, and now I feel you have turned away from me. Call me! Stop being so silent! Are you going to be angry if I come to you? Don't be angry if I stopped walking...the world is the same everywhere, in suffering and joy. But I only want to suffer or cheer where you are, in front of you.

And you, do you want to chase me away?

26 November

Aaahh, here we are. Sometimes I tell myself: "My dear, you are doomed. Nobody else is so tormented. " But then I read something that was written by some poet centuries ago, and it's practically like reading my own heart. I'm destined to suffer a lot more...and there have been many others who have suffered so much in the past.. : (

He knows that I'm suffering. Today his eyes penetrated my heart. I found him alone. I didn't say anything, and he looked at me. And in him I didn't see anymore the same beauty, the same light of spirit. All that had disappeared to my eyes. What I saw was pure, simple interest and compassion.

Why couldn't I throw myself at his feet? Why couldn't I hug him and kiss him?

He went to the piano and started humming a tune while playing. A sweet little tune. I had never realised his lips were so sexy. It was as if they opened just enough to let the notes in, and to let their echos out....

Whatever, I can't really describe this.

I want to kiss him so bad, and yet I feel that to kiss those lips would be a sin. A sin???

22 November

I cannot ask: "Leave him to me!", and yet sometimes I feel like he is mine. I can't ask: "Give him to me!" because he is someone else's. I am fooling myself and my feelings, but if I stopped I'd give space to even more craziness, I think.

21 November

He doesn't see, he doesn't feel that he is distilling a poison which will be his and my ruin, and I, a complete idiot, drink from the cup he gives me for my oblivion. What good does it do the friendly way he often (not often...sometimes) looks at me? The compassion he sometimes has in listening to my whining?

Yesterday, as I was about to leave, he took my hand and said: "See you my dear Oscar!" 'My Dear Oscar'...it was the first time he used 'my dear' and I felt like I was gonna pass out (I know it's not much, but said from him...) I repeated it to myself like a billion times and last night, as I was about to fall asleep, I suddenly told myself: "Good night, my dear Oscar!"

And then I started laughing like an idiot.

I'm grateful for your good advice. Please, stay calm, and let me be until the end. With all my tiredness, I still manage to keep myself standing.

I respect religion, you know. I understand it can be helpful for those who are tired or suffering. But can it work like that for everybody? If you look at the world, you'll see the billion times in which this hasn't been the case. And why should it be like that for me? Wasn't the Son of God himself who said that around Him will be those given to Him by His Father? And what if I'm not among those that were given to Him? What if The Father wanted to keep me for Himself? Please, do not misinterpret these words, they're not meant to be cynical and they're actually pretty innocent. I'm opening up all my soul to you, or I would have kept my mouth shut. It seems that we all have to suffer as much as we're supposed to, each one of us has to empty their cup. And if that cup seemed too bitter to God, why should I have to pretend it is sweet to me? And why should I be ashamed when I find myself in the terrible space that exists between being and not being, when past sparkles on the dark abyss of the future and here, around me, everything sinks and ends with me? Isn't this the very voice of the creature which has been deprived of itself and ruined which, in the last depths of its energies pointlessly aiming to the sky, shrieks: " Oh God, Oh God, why have Thou forsaken me?"

And why should I be ashamed of these words, why should I be afraid of this moment, if not even He who folds the skies as if they were canvas was?

She scolded me for my excesses. My excesses, which means that sometimes I drink a whole bottle instead of just one glass. "Don't do this!" she said "think of P.!"

"Yeah, sure, think....but I do not think. He is always in my soul, whatever, heart. Today I was sitting at that bus stop where I recently saw him ..."

She changed the subject, she probably couldn't be bothered to hear anymore of my stories.

I'm a finished man. He can do whatever the hell he wants with me.

Sometimes I go to sleep with the desire, often even with the hope, not to wake up ever again, and in the morning when I open my eyes and see the sun again I feel sad.

If at least I were unstable. If I could blame time, someone else, something I failed to do, the unbearable weight of my sickness would be less painful. Fuck my life! I know even too well that the fault is all mine, and mine only. But not even the guilt....enough to say that in me is the source of all trouble, there were once was the source of all happiness. Am I not still the one who could spend hours just engaging with his own feelings? The one who was able to disclose a paradise at each step, and that had a heart big enough to contain the entire world?

This heart of mine is now dead. No more feelings are coming out of it.

My eyes are dry and I'm constantly frowning as I haven't cried for so long.

I suffer so much because I've lost what was the only joy of my life. The magical force with which I used to create worlds around me is gone.

And now, I stand by the window and look at that faraway hill and at the sun that cuts through the mist of the morning, and at the river that seems to flow towards me....if I look at this amazing nature that seems like it's been frozen in a badly painted picture, I feel absolutely NOTHING. I feel like there's a void instead of my heart, instead of my soul.

No tears, nothing at all. I even prayed, prayed God, after so long, to make me feel something.

Haven't I already been this close to throwing my arms around him like, a billion times?. Do you know what it feels like to have that around all the time and not to be able to grab it? To own is one of the most natural impulses of humanity, after all. Children do grab anything that touches their sense. And I?

At Night

I own a lot, and the feeling I have for him swallows everything. I own a lot, and without him everything becomes nothing for me.

Sometimes I'd rip my chest open and smash my skull, when I think of how little we mean for each other. Love, peace, warmth, joy, all things I'm not carrying with me, nobody else will be able to give to me and, even if I had a heart full of happiness, I wouldn't be able to cheer up someone who's feeling powerless and sad. : (

Yes, for me it's becoming a certainty, the irrelevance of the existence of a human creature. A friend came to see P., and I went to another room to look for a book, but I couldn't read so I took a pen to write something. I could hear P.'s voice whispering. They were chatting about something not very important, gossips: this person broke up with her boyfriend, this one is sick, very sick. "He got so thin he's scary" said one. "Yeah, I heard that" said the other. And I started imagining these people, their thinness, sickness, sadness...while I heard those two talking about them as if it were a tv series or something. As if they were talking about fictional characters, whose lives have been created just to serve us, and help us go through our frustrations, our fantasies. our pain.

I looked around the room and I saw P.'s and his girlfriend's clothes, their books. And I started thinking, 'who am I, now, in this house? They like you to be around, and sometimes you feel like you can't be without them. And yet, if you left now, if you detached yourself from them? Would they feel empty, and how long for?For how long?'

Human beings are so volatile they are destined to be forgotten everywhere, even there where they thought they'd left the only real impression of their existence, in the memory and soul of their loved ones. It all happens so quickly!

19 October

Shit, this emptiness, this scary emptiness that I feel here in my chest! I often think: if I once, only once, could hold him to my heart, this emptiness would be entirely filled.

In my heart Ossian has replaced Homer. He leads me everywhere! To walk on the deserted land, as the wind is sweeping away the spirits of our ancestors in the trembling moon light. To hear, coming slowly from the mountains, the voices of crying spirits buried in caves and the lament of the girl mourning, by four tombstones covered with musk, for his dead lover!And when I find him, the grey haired bard, who wanders around the lands in search of his forefathers but finds instead their graves, and, crying, he looks at the sweet evening star about to be swallowed by the sea, and in his soul past ages are revived, times when a benevolent ray still alerted sailors of imminent dangers and the moon brightened their ship which, adorned with flowers, was taken back to the port. When I read grief on his forehead, and when I see him crawling to his own grave, and how he always absorbs joys that are new and burning from the sterile presence of the shadows of his forefathers and, looking at the cold ground, at the dark grass, he cries: " The Errant will come, the one who knew me in my beauty, and he will ask me: - Where is the bard, the son of Fingal? - His step goes beyond my grave and he pointlessly asks about me on Earth".

Like a noble knight, I would like to draw my sword and free my prince from the terrible pain of life and, after the freed semi god I would send my soul.

10 October

If only I could see his black eyes, I'd feel better already! You see: what I'm sorry about is that she doesn't seem to be as happy as she...wished she had been and as much as I...wished I could have been if...oh wait, I don't know how to write this.

15 September

It is crazy to think that there can be people who don't give a shit about whatever still makes any kind of sense on this planet. Yesterday I found out these particular chestnut trees I used to sit under with P. have been cut. I loved those trees so much it's hard to explain. They filled me with joy, just to know they were there, they had been there there for years, maybe centuries prior to my existence, and they were going to be there for years after my death.

I remember my teacher at school telling us the scientific names of them, over and over again, but I can't remember them now coz I forgot everything. I think he learnt those names from his grandfather himself.

I seriously wish I could have stopped whoever did that.

He left for a few days to go see her. Today I went in the room and he came to meet me. I kissed his hand, happy.
I looked in the mirror and saw a canary in a cage. "A friend of mine" he said, taking it out and holding in his hand. " I got it for my little brothers. Look at it! It eats from my hand.
He put his lips closer to the bird and he tried to insert its beak between them.
"It'll kiss you too" he said moving the bird closer to me.
The little beak started pecking at my lips now, a delicate, rhythmic beating.
"Its kissing has some desire in it...it wants food after all."
"I feed it too with my mouth" he said. He took some bread crumbs and put them between his lips. He smiled.
I turned around as I could barely stand this smile. He should never do this to me.
...but why not after all? He trusts me. He knows how much I love him.

It was hard, but I did it in the end! I threw away the blue jacket I was wearing the first time I met P. It was at a party. My jacket was clean when we started dancing, but by the end of the night it was a mess, I even ripped it.

I've bought a new one, it's very similar. I've also bought a pair of trousers that kinda look like the ones I was wearing when I met him.

But it's not the same thing at all. I don't know. Maybe, with time, even this new jacket will acquire some kind of meaning.

4 September

Yes, that's the was it is. As nature is walking towards autumn, so, even inside and around me, autumn rises. My leaves are withering and those of the trees have fallen already.

I really want to tell the story of a man I met recently. He himself told me this story, his story, which managed to move me a lot. I could as well keep these things for myself...seems like I only want to spread compassion and sadness around.

He was really sad when we started talking, and shy, at first, he hardly answered my questions. But, after a while, he became more open, and he started pouring out all this stuff, he confessed what he thought he had done wrong to me, what he wished he could do better. I wish I could repeat what he said word for word.

He told me how he'd fallen in love with this girl, a lot younger, so much so that he could not eat or sleep or think anymore. He kept doing things he wasn't supposed to do and forgetting what he was supposed to do. He told me he felt like he was cursed or something.

He talked a lot about her too, how she'd understood his feelings for her and somehow responded.

But then he got kind of confused and defensive and said that I shouldn't think that he was a perv or a nutter.

But I'm not describing well...if I could present this person as he was when he was talking to me, if I could translate his exact words one for one...

anyway, I should maybe add that the girl's brother got to know about him. He's been watching out for him since he understood the whole story (or he thought he did).

He'll probably never see her again.

I'm not exaggerating the story at all...actually, I've only repeated like half of it, without any details, because they wouldn't make much sense anyway, written by me. What do I know about this kind of things, this kind of love.

What do I know about love?

I am calm now. Read, this is my story too. This will happen to me too, and I don't have even half of the strength, not even half of the courage that man had.

SOMETIMES I WONDER HOW COULD ANYONE ELSE DARE TO, AND HAVE THE RIGHT TO, LOVE HIM, SINCE ONLY I LOVE HIM THIS DEEPLY,COMPLETELY, AND I KNOW NOTHING AND I OWN NOTHING EXCEPT FOR HIM.

Everything seems to change inside me so suddenly. Sometimes I feel like my perspective on life is becoming happier, clearer, but unfortunately that feeling always only last for one moment! When I get lost in these kind of thoughts, I can't help thinking: "what if she died? Maybe you...Yes, he, of course...". And so I run after my ideals, that inevitably lead me to an abyss, in front of which I always step back, scared.

When I walk down that street I walked down that time we went get P. to go to the party, I always think it looks so different. Everything looks so different!

It happens to me as it would happen to a ghost that returns to the, now abandoned, castle he bought and furnished when he was still alive and rich and that, before dying, he left to his son.

4 August

It doesn't happen this way to me only, you know. Everybody is disappointed about their expectations, their hopes.

I went to visit this woman I used to know when I was a little kid. When I arrived, one of his sons came to meet me and he called her. As soon as she approached, she said: "Hans is dead". Hans was the youngest of her children. I didn't say anything.

Yeah...that's right. I....his boyfriend? God, if you had given me this gift I'm sure I'd be praying a lot more...

No. I should stop with these useless thoughts. Him...if I could hold him even just once. He seems to me to be the most beautiful creature living under the sun.

Am I allowed to say this? Why not? With me, he would have been a lot happier than he is with her. I'm sure she does not truly understand that heart. I could. I can.

The fact that her heart doesn't seem to be in harmony with, let's say...a certain paragraph of a certain book that him and I understood so well our hearts became like one as we read.

But, yes...she loves him, no doubt. So I guess she deserves his love, doesn't she.

Oh shit, I'm so distracted I can't even write anymore. I'm so distracted I forgot I was crying and now I've got dry tears on my cheeks and they're sort of itchy.

Adieu for now

Where do I want to go? Let me tell you in all confidence. For fifteen days I'll stay here; then, I don't really know....I mean...I just want to be close to P. again really. And this is all.

I laugh at my heart and do what he tells me to do.

Yes!! I'll be a gipsy, I'll travel world wide! But you, perhaps, you are something more than this?

Say whatever you want to say, I can't stay here anymore. What am I doing here? Time becomes endless. I feel out of place, weird...I think I'll stay here a little bit longer, like eight days, and then I'll go back to my 'wild' life. The best thing I've been doing here has been to draw....but everybody here is so attached to reality it is hard to share anything related to art, or fantasy.

I had a plan in mind, and I didn't wanna say anything about it before it became reality. But now, since I'm making nothing out of it, I can as well say it. I wanted to leave, go away, far, seriously far. Somewhere wild, possibly. I was telling a friend of mine about it recently. He told me if I really wanted to go, I would have to be a lot more rational than I am about it.

(He doesn't want me)

mark

So, I travelled back to my hometown. I went through lots of different unexpected states of mind. When I arrived to the big tree I always used to go to as a kid, at about fifteen minutes distance from the town, I stopped the car and got off. I just wanted to live back the memories, taste them as if they were new and alive in my heart. I sat under the tree that, as a kid, used to be the last stop of many adventurous trips. Everything seemed so different! Back then, when I didn't know anything, I just wanted to get away, leave, find myself somewhere out there, hoping to fulfil my ever hungry self. And now, I was returning from the world, that world, with so many disappointments, so many failures! I could see in front of me the mountains that I once desired to reach. I could once sit for hours and just daydream about going beyond those mountains and loose myself in the woods that I could see from that position and, when it was time for me to leave, how sorry I was to have to interrupt my dreams!

Anyway, so I went to town, and I recognised all the old houses and noticed there were lots of new ones too.

It was so weird to see that my old school is not a school anymore. I just spent some time remembering all the pain I went through inside that place. What a nightmare!

Now, each step I took was in some way meaningful.

I followed the river down to a farm. I used to play with my friends as a kid around that farm. I spent so many hours observing the water, fantasising about where the river would have taken me to if I let myself go with the flow of the water. I had to go on, always on with fantasising about the horizon, about what could be just beyond that line, until I would get completely lost.

What point is there, really, in knowing that the Earth is round? We can't really perceive it anyway. We are limited in our own sense of flatness, anywhere we go.

Anybody can know what I know. But my heart, only I can have it.

Post Scriptum (on April the 19th)

Thank you (you know who you are) for your email. I didn't reply coz I didn't have time. I was afraid my mum was gonna complain about my decision to leave, and she did, but in the end she gave in. It's not that I asked her anyway.

So, tomorrow I'm leaving this place. And, since my hometown is only just a few miles from here, I wanna go see it again, just to remember the, what do they call them, 'good old times', when I used to spend all my time dreaming.

That's it. I'm gonna go. And if you wanna where to, ask him, this so - called friend of mine I met like yesterday. He asked me to go with him and I accepted. Why?

Why not?

I'll be free at least, at last. That's what he promised me.

And, since it really seems that we two understand each other, as far as it is possible to tell, I just want to trust him and go with him.

S**t, I have to leave. fuck it...they convinced me to come here so this course and now I have to move again. I just made a mess and I don't wanna be here anymore. Well, it's not that I was enjoying myself here but..

So I'm gonna briefly explain what happened. This older friend of mine, C. invited me to have lunch at his place. So I go there, and he tells me he's throwing a party the same night in his place. And, you know, parties at C.'s are like The Parties around here. We have lunch than start chatting and stuff, and time goes on. Well, thing is, party time comes and people start arriving. They're obviously all older than me (C.'s age) and I feel kinda uncomfortable being around. Also, I don't know anybody except for C., so I don't really know what to do, and I just hang around drinking and pretending I have somewhere to go. Luckily, my friend B. arrives too, and that' s more than a relief. But by then I am already kinda drunk. And then me and her keep on drinking this cocktails, and drink and drink. So basically by the end everything becomes blurry and everybody else seems to be drunk too. They're all dancing and stuff.

And, I wish this had never happened, this one guy keeps looking at me. I'm like lying half asleep on a sofa. And this guy comes to me and starts talking to me. I don't even remember what we talked about. I just know that at some point he asks me if I've seen C.'s collection of films. I say yes, and he's like: "Oh, really? I've never seen it, but I've been told it is great! Would you mind taking me to see it?" And I kinda know (but not really) what this is all leading to, since C. keeps his dvd's in in bedroom. But I'm too drunk to refuse, so I just go. B. tries to say something to stop me, but I kinda get pissed off at her and say that she's not my mother so I'll do what I want.

So we go to C.'s room, and this guy starts kissing me as soon as we are there. I really am too drunk to even think, so I just go along with what he's doing. It's all blurry and I just remember taking half of my clothes off. And he kinda pushing me on the bed. I forget that we're in someone else's house, and there's a party going on. I just forget everything. I don't even remember who I am at that point.

So I honestly am really puzzled when this girl comes in. Because, well, from the way she is screaming it really sounds like she's the guy's girlfriend or something. She's like mad....and, well, I can't blame her, I guess.

Anyway, it's all really confusing and embarrassing, and I'm so drunk I can barely understand what's going on. The guy starts apologising and I just start putting my clothes back on, and I'm like almost crying coz I'm really embarrassed.

And, of course, other people have heard the girl screaming so they come to see what's going on. She's so mad at me she literally throws me out of the house. I'm so upset and drunk I don't even wait for B. or anybody, I just get a taxi and go home.

So this is what happened, and since then it's been really unbearable to be here. First of all,because I still feel like an idiot for letting that happen. I mean it was just so embarrassing and bad...and secondly, because now everybody knows about it, and this is a small place and that was like the main party, so I'm done here.

I could pretend I don't care, but the truth is I do, and it's pretty impossible not to when you know that anywhere you go people know about you.

But it's more for myself, the sense of really feeling dirty and guilty for the first time. I didn't want that to happen, but I let it happen. It's just fucked up.

I hope you can get all the good days I'm being deprived of.

I once promised myself I was gonna get rid of the photo of P. I have on my bulletin board. But I never did. And now, thinking about it, why should I? Perhaps I'm not the person P. loves the most, but I am at least the second. And I wanna keep this place, if it can't get any better. I cannot think he could forget me. To even think about that possibility is like...hell.

Goodbye, my angel. Goodbye, P.

I'm afraid I'm not gonna be able to stand living here much longer. My classmates are mostly unbearable, they're just so ridiculous I cannot help myself laughing when I speak to them, or contradicting them. An, of course, this is a problem for them. One of them even complained about me with the school director, which is a real pain in the ass. I was also about to give the job up, but then the director wrote to me asking to stay. He was actually very nice. He told me he understood where I was coming from, that he appreciated my sensitivity and my enthusiasm. He told me I could use all those qualities to just become a better me. That helped a lot I gotta say. I've been feeling a lot better the last eight days or so. To feel in peace with oneself is something amazing. To be happy with oneself. It is such a precious, but such a fragile feeling!

The weather has been pretty crap for the last few days...I like it. Because it seems that, since I've been here, there has not yet been a good day that was spoilt by someone or something. If it rains, snows, freezes, though, oh! I think that it's not gonna be worse inside than outside, and the other way round, so everything's cool. So, if, by looking at the sun early in the morning, you can tell that the day is going to be beautiful, I say to myself: "Seems like we're gonna have another gift from Mother Nature that human beings are going to spoil!"

There is nothing people don't destroy: health, reputation, happiness, rest. And this, is almost always because of their stupidity, their misunderstanding and their narrowness of mind. Sometimes I just feel like kneeling down in front of them and begging them not to be so cruel against each other.

I here report an email I sent to P. (I finally managed to do it!)

Dear P.,

I'm here writing to you from an internet cafe I was forced to get in due to a sudden storm. I must say that, during the time I've spent in this fucking hole of a place, I haven't once thought about writing to you. And now, in this tiny, depressing internet cafe, you are the first person who came to my mind. It's funny, as soon as I got in this place, the image, the memory of you, P., appeared so vividly and so intensely in my mind. Wow, I feel happy again for the first time after ages.

You wouldn't imagine how bad I've been feeling lately. I've been looking for distractions that only made things worse...my senses seem to have gone numb, and I haven't felt a moment of satisfaction or happiness since I can't remember when.

Always nothing, nothing.

I feel like I've been looking at the world in front of me as if it were a little stage, and I, a giant. I see little men and animals moving in front of me and sometimes I wonder if it is not all just an illusion, like a hologram or something.

I carry on playing my part, or rather I let others play me as if I were a marionette or a musical instrument. And, when I try to touch them, all I can feel is wood or stone.

At night I plan to watch the sun rising the morning after, and then I can't get out of bed. During the days, I look forward to the moonlight and then I stay locked in my bedroom.

There's something missing, definitely. That magical something that would keep me up until late at night is gone. And so is whatever gave me the energies to get up in the mornings.

I have met someone, a girl, B. She reminds me of you, in some weird way. Even though it's hardly possible to be similar to you. Hey, I'm not trying to be flattering...well, perhaps I am.

I've just found out I can be very gentle if I want to. I can also lie very well. Girls seem to like that a lot, yawn.

But, hey, B., she's very nice. She seems to understand me. She's got some really fine blue eyes, daydreaming eyes. She's a big daydreamer also, like me. We spend hours fantasising about country side, far away places, and all that. We also talk about you. She likes you, from what I've told her.

Now, I wish I were there with you, and your little brothers and sisters running around us. I miss those moments. I felt happy then.

The sun is setting now...I can see its peachy light spreading over the shiny streets. The storm has gone, and I...I'll just go back to my 'cage'.

Bye, P.

Oh, how is it going with your girlfriend? Sorry, it sounds like I'm being jealous now.

Love to you.

XX

What kind of human beings are these, whose only target is to achieve, to become important, to succeed? And they would have so many other things to do, if they only looked around!

It's only idiots that can't see how the rank is not what matters..that people on higher ranks often don't have the highest duties.

And so, who's the first, really?

Whoever is able to look further and that is clever enough to use others' passions and energies to get what he/she wants.