MY FIRST TIME

Has been long time since I don’t post. So, here I am, with the song “Lucille” by BBKing plugged in my hear.

I find difficult to stay attached to something, and more difficult to stay attached to someone.
I find difficult to believe that one ideal stays. That values stay. That ideas stay. That people around me stays. That a project stays. I wake up everyday as if it was my first time. Everything to build again. Everyone to start loving again. A dream to be dreamed again. A project to be projected again. The love my aunt has for me, that love to be win again.

It’s the idea that I had yesterday still here, still in my brain? If I would be free, but free for real, well, what would I do? Where would I go and with who?

I’m lost, am I therefore free?
I have no home, no parents, no education.

I have a blog that I barely check. I have strong dreams during the night. I see billion faces over the day, and I can’t forget them when I go home. I have too many passions, or probably none. I pay the rent gambling on cards. Somedays I feel my life is great, and important, and something that someone cares about. I care about. Somedays I don’t feel a thing.

As we were trapped in something, we’re trapped inside the web, or inside a commitment, or a marriage, or a job we don’t like, or a concept of freedom we made up to survive.

I’d like to enter in a project or in a house, or in a relationship or in a boat, or in a radio, or in a studio, and say let’s start from here. Start from zero, and stay there all my life, and advance in the position year by year, slowly gradually, and gradually do something in that thing. The world is too big for me, and it became too small: the possibilities are so many, and -by traveling- I realize that the distances between a place and an other are so short, that you can actually do everything in your life, and so why I should not? And so I will. And I’m scared that at the end I won’t have anything real, just a bunch of plane tickets and cut experiences.

My life is a video filled with jump cuts. Hard to watch. To understand. Hard to feel. Hard to remember. Hard heart. Malleable brain. And at the end, in my hands always nothing, if not a keyboard.

Your
Giorgia