13-11-2002
tragicly
fallen in love, with an impossible young English lady
-
and nobody knew - torn and frayed - my love thrown away
Monday,
20th August, 2001 - darkness filled up my "blind" eyes
...and
even this time all is coming to an end
it's
all been incredible, my friend
but
I think here I can't stand
it
is getting very near the end...
my
show is coming to an end, my friend.
It's
Monday the 20th August. An ordinary, a day like
any
other day.
It's
Monday and I'm no longer an activity leader
for
TLC.
I
won't ever be, eventually.
So
far I have broken my watch, broken my pair of
glasses,
missed tens of trains and buses for ten
bloody
seconds, lost my jumper, lost my sweater,
lost
important addresses......and... well......
lost
myself for the nth time.
It's
Monday, a very ordinary Monday and I don't
need
anymore to wake up with bloody accents, whether
it
is French or English....or Italian... As well as
you
don't need anymore to pull my leg or wind me up
............or
to be that shy girl you're well known
for.
And, well, I would say clever, after all. I'm
meant
to be one who's able to spot clever minds
miles
away. Don't underrate me, and I won't underrate
you!!.....
It's
Monday and you got 4As*, while I've got 4.....
days
left....... the battle, my own battle, rages on.
There's
still fire and lightnings to keep it on, I'm
waiting
for the next explosion of thunders and rain
which
accompanies my killing imagination. I love
falling
in love with my thoughts. They keep me awake
all
the time, even when I should let everything go.
I
love them. I need them. I adore them. I would like
to
kill them!!..... Before they can kill me. But I
cannot
help it. It's stronger than me. Stronger than
my
will. It's ME vs ME. A passionate, dramatic battle
within
my mind. Who's gonna win?... Who's gonna over-
take
the other?...
I
won't let myself blow away.
It's
Monday, a bloody Monday. My bedroom is as untidy
as
ever, just as my fuckingly complicated brain.
I'm
sinking. Definitely sinking. I'm being killed
by
an "imagination-overdose". I'm being driven
slightly,
slowly mad, trying to keep myself afloat,
but.....
it's surrender, by now......
Maybe
it is getting very near the end.
I'm
the man standing on the corner, completely iso-
lated,
while the others joyfully have fun dancing
to
a deafening loud music.
I'm
the nice fellow to whom no-one says hallo whenever
I
go to a party.
I'm
your outsider, a natural born one, bound to
struggle
and trying not to get overwhelm by his own
over-thinking,
then his own over-worrying.
Remember?
I'm 80 early in the morning, 60 after
breakfast,
40 at mid-noon, 30 in the early afternoon,
20
in the evening, from 8 to 15 late at night.....
TO
MAKE IT MINE!!!! MY VERY OWN NIGHT!!
I'm
"Sir Sensitivity" during the day, but supposed
to
be "Evil Nosferatu" at deep, very deep night,
gently
entitled to "suck" blood to my victims and
give
myself a "high" time, fairly "accompanied" by
its
unsafe and overwhelming darkness, a dearest friend
to
me. Then, to get back, when dawn rises again, to
my
spoiled and eerie grave. And let my tormented soul
"die"
again. To re-live the following night.
Just
let me fall into my dream, a labyrinthine dream,
from
which it is apparently impossible to escape. But it's too late, I've already
been trapped. No way out.
And
now way in, no access to rest of the World.
Just
let me go back into my Dark Side of the Moon,
see
you very soon. Nowhere-bound, that "nowhere" I
came
from. A place to be, a place with no people,
desperately
needed for me, I need my very own island
where
to keep the wicked Planet far and let myself go
into
a stunningly blue sea of emotions and peaceful
easy
feelings.
Let
me let me let me... let me over and over again
sail
away, for a never come-back. A f....... bastard
getaway.
I will let my corrosive doubts vanish with
this
annoyingly freezing wind and maybe one day you'll
find
the answer.
Far
from the madding crowd, I'm the little raging
boy
quit too early by his mother and father, I'm
crying
and no-one is coming to rescue me. Alone with
my
child-ish ghosts and rumours that apparently do
not
exist, except within my corrupted mind. It's
like
diving into an empty, dark swimming pool, sure
I
won't get hurt. No, I won't.
I
feel like I have to cross a very busy, chaotic
road
in a huge, disturbing big town, without watching
not
to left nor to right.
I
won't get hurt, my friend. No, I won't.
I'm
sure, I won't.
SEE
YA IN THE SPACE!!!
BYE
A
"gorgeous" activity leader
....wearing
big-girl-like-long-socks
....and
having a very BAD French accent........
....or
the "bloodiest and weirdest English accent
ever
heard so far"..........
my
VERY OWN accent!!!
.......Definitely
your ultimate outsider
.........Definitely
"Mr. Misunderstood"
....
Definitely...... MR. DEFINITELY!!!!!!!!!!!
Signed:
A
natural born "menthally-drunk" 28-year-old-Italian-fellow
...who
adores George Best and "comes" from Sgt. Pepper
(I
used to live there, until a certain time ago).
A
very very very good guy, INDEED!!!!!!!
Luca
TELEMACO
PEPE
*:
4As equivalerebbe al massimo risultato ottenibile
attraverso
i famosi A-LEVELS inglesi, una serie di
esami
che permettono di individuare il grado di
preparazione
degli studenti inglesi nel delicato,
cruciale
passaggio tra la maturita' conseguita nelle
scuole
superiori ed il successivo passaggio all'Univer-
sita'
per la quale si ha optato.