Can I complain? No? Fuck it.

Gwwwwwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh. Sorry guys. "Guys". Like I actually have anyone reading this. Hello my invisible audience. How have you "guys" been?

Doesn't matter. I think it was awesome Portuguese poet Fernando Pessoa (which I haven't read of course, because it's so hard for me to go beyond the superficiality of everything) who said, under one of his alter egos, "I write to speak to God". I can't find any confirmation of that on Google, but I've learnt that in school way longer before Wikipedia, so I trust my old school knowledge.

I know it's self-defeating and self-absorbing to complain and talk about myself all the time. For that I am sorry. It's just that since I have moved to Italy (nine months ago) I thought I was going to get inspired and productive and go through this massive and beautiful and intense and emotional life change. Well, I have. But it was nothing like I'd expected. It was nothing like what American films portray when people go to Italy to do some cheap soul-searching of some kind. A bit of crying, a bit of thinking and beauty, beauty, beauty. It was nothing, nothing like that. It was one of the ugliest and darkest times of my life. Now that I feel that the cycle is FINALLY ending, and I want to close this chapter of my life and leave it behind me for fucking FOREVER, I thought it would be wise to sediment all the lessons learned, so I don't EVER have to go through this pain again. Also, although I complain a lot more than I should, I do think that I am privileged to go through the experiences that I go through (even though some of them are bloody self-inflicted), so it's my duty and pleasure, as a social and empathetic human being, to share them with people. Whoever it is who might learn anything from what I have to say, I shall feel extremely satisfied to be of service. Dealing with life is very difficult for me and I have relied on people, always, on this painful and absolutely wonderful journey. Sharing has become so vital it'd be simply unhuman not to do so.

Unfortunately, I am quite lazy, I've been battling low moods, I procrastinate and I have almost no discipline. So I don't share as much as I would like, unless you give me a call and we chat about it. And the ironic thing is, I know there will be loads of people out there who will love to hear the personal struggle of someone trying to figure things out in a place like Italy, but the people around me, like most of our contemporary peers, are so self-centred and close-minded and worried with the tiny tiny little pettiness of tiny tiny little things that will never matter, that they can't be bothered to listen to me.

This sounds quite self-centred as well. I do not make myself an exception. I fight this every single second of my life. But still, compared to most people, at least I have a genuine interest and fascination for people's lives and content. Even if it is to soak on that for my own knowledge. But I can't forgive when the majority of people are not slightly interested about anything you might have to share. Anything. What do they live of? What the hell do they talk about? Probably spend their lives reading blogs instead of actually talking to the amazing person next to them, which they will not give a chance because they are "weird", or something.

This is not the point. Forgive me for not focusing. I tend to keep making these vague observations, my thoughts aren't ordered, and neither is my life. Also, I haven't written properly for years. Be patient, as I believe it's worthy (at least for the pics - it's Italy, after all).

This is three minutes away from my apartment. And I still managed to be very depressed.