I want to tell you about me

Today I want to tell you about me.
Not of us and of what we were, not of the way in which you lack, not of how I fall asleep every evening without your shoulder on which to rest.
Only me, me against the rest of the world.

I want to tell you about the wallets I have lost, the diary I stopped writing and the fear of not being able to dream anymore.
I want to tell you about how this year I have tried to be strong, seductive, courageous, determined, self-sufficient, independent, pragmatic, focused, enthusiastic. I tried a thousand adjectives to see how they were wearing me, and after trying in every way to remodel me to get into perfection I realized that it was much easier to adapt them to me.
Now the qualities stick to me in disorderly fashion, and they also become a little faults, a bit oddity topped with a few ticks and paranoia. But they are the ones that make me smile in front of the mirror and glimpse a glimmer of hope behind the dark circles that tell me about my neurosis.

I want to write you about that day like a thousand others in which I kicked an empty can chasing it in every alley and pertugio, lengthening the route, losing a train and perhaps a little bit of dignity. Yet I remember it as one of the most carefree moments of the year.
How I talked to a stranger on the bus. Without blushing and sweating, just eat a few words here and there. Even today I still have a small injection of adrenaline when I think again. I surrendered to the fact that my shyness will never change, and this awareness has taught me even a little bit to love her.

I found out that I had a natural talent for fake smiles and that I could succeed without effort in convincing the whole world that I am fine even when I feel cut to pieces. I found out that I was able to laugh at very sad jokes, and that people only need a compliment of circumstance to feel more paid and less sunny.
I sang a lot, loud, in the car, in the shower, in the street, very often in my head. I decided not to lose the music, not to be willing to give up on her during my days.

I was bored to death at a party and had exaggerated fun in front of an old film, a Saturday night at home alone.
I started a few books and took some planes. I promised myself for the thousandth time to learn to play guitar, and I've always postponed it. I thought and thought about how to change the world, without even coming to understand how to change my haircut.

I cried for humanity, for the first time in my life. I cried for those who are no longer there, for the evil that infests this planet, and I felt part of something much bigger than me.
I was afraid, so much, so many, I lost my sleep to stir up tragedies that I have not yet fully understood.

I started listening to the stories of others, no longer to mitigate my inadequacy, but finally to understand and discuss other points of view.

Nothing special has happened in my life this year, and at the same time it has been the most unforgettable year ever.
Because I've remained alone with me, I've been consoling, keeping company, hated, compatibly and encouraged.
And I started to fall in love with the person I am.

I just wanted to tell you this.
Tell yourself about me, and finally give me some space, after you've taken too many words that I could have devoted myself to.
My biggest victory, thinking back to us, is to be able to understand what you loved so much about me, rather than crying about what you hated for just one minute.