Ten - Love your neighbor
ALMOST `Another sleepless night. Lately
sleep for me is becoming a luxury.
It is strange, because usually when I'm sick 'sleep a lot: that is the way my body to avoid problems, or perhaps to restore the energy to deal with them.
So, finally this morning I did not hear the alarm, or rather, I have heard her, but my brain registered the fact as if dreaming of singing the song that gave the radio.
Result: I got dressed in so little suitable to the occasion and climate, I bagged the useless things and left home that necessary.
Last but not least, I could not wake up calmly so now they are an epitome of kindness is sociability.
We started recently and apart from "hello" and "I'm hungry" I did not say much, I must be the perfect companion for a trip.
An unusual and unexpected traffic for any weekend in February has completed the work making me nervous: at that point for me out of the silence was impossible unless not soak all quiet in my incazzatura.
What's more, I was seized with a fit of unexplained sadness, the kind that you tighten the throat and you feel you would not want to do is scream and cry, but do not know is why you do not know what. I do not think, like many boys tend to dismiss it, a case of Paturnie premenstrual syndrome, there are simply times when I would cry as if I had a great sorrow to vent, as if I were to pull out all the pain I have inside , just do not know what it is.
The only way at this point to get me out of this mood is a vigilant and attentive silence.
This time he did the right thing.
He left me in peace and, on the rare occasions of interaction, has been kind, there is impatience.
This allowed me to leave my limbo "tuttoilmondomiodia.
are now quiet.
Now I say "Thank You".
She looks at me surprised and a little bit amused, wondering why ', but he already knows the why `and` why `one of those who say they are when you need their dose of words to believe what is happening .
That "thank you" has unleashed the torrent of things unsaid or screaming too.
Thus I, of course, without a moment's hesitation and without any explanations are necessary as the work of repairing a fight, tell him why the `sick of my sour, I talk about what I miss and what bothers me.
I took my feelings and I have spilled on the table, as is done with the pockets of his trousers, and now I'm putting them in order: a key part of the other coins.
And while I talk about everything and is more clear, perhaps even more honest, especially to my eyes.
I stopped trying to prove to me that I have no blame in this story, if that goes wrong does not depend on me.
I put aside the filters and I'm talking to him as if he were writing for myself.
He answers me in the same way, speaking of his difficulties and trying to figure out my best, speculate.
This time trying to make the words really need to feel more close, without hiding behind "have made` so 'or `I do not know why it happens."
me about his tiredness, and the fact that it's easier to stay shut up in his world that seek to manage a life with its complicated relations, the world may remember from that he is never released, but at least let me go.
We are trying to be completely honest, especially with ourselves, even if it means being tough, even with ourselves.
And as we speak I am moved.
I am moved by how and what we were, as we are still, for what we could be and what probably will be.
I am moved as I was going to be a time that I do not remember or removed. But
is an emotion that does not make me give in: I talk to him my disappointment with teary eyes and trembling voice, I told him that I do not know whether to believe another attempt, which is not an issue of lack of confidence in him, but simply the awareness that we are too unmotivated and tried not to whether we have any shred of probability, that perhaps what holds us together is only fear to start over, to relive the same things but without `ceremonial tranquilizers, which is normal human and wonder if it would only be yet another truce, one of the many lulls apparently waiting to culminate in yet another crisis.
Slow down, pull over, stop the machine and laying her head on my shoulder. `
remains so for a time that I can not measure.
Then looks at me and asks, "Will we ever be happy together?".
I smile and say, "Are we already have."
(END)
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