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.