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Published by john Waine

Based on a true story.

Based on a true story.

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Published by: john Waine on Feb 20, 2013
Copyright:Traditional Copyright: All rights reserved


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Yesterday I was listening intently to the storythat a young man was telling me about hisdifficulty in being accepted and seen. I'll writeabout what he was telling me for hours in thefirst person. Not only to make the story morepersonal but also because I think we all feltlike this over time.
Before we start to talk, lets say that I wasasked to give one word to this guy, since Imyself felt lost for a while ago. The beginningof the conversation was reluctant and gave fight,but after a few minutes of discomfort began topour out like a beautiful song.Before he open up to me, he began by saying thathe thought much before doing so. He had alreadythought to consult someone who could help butnever had the courage to go all the way.Extract what felt like a cancer itwas, exile what I think, show what I think iscompletely wrong in my surroundings, what seemsnot to hit right, what makes my soul so heavy,what lacks in my life. All the madness insidethis wretched mind.
Apparently these past months have been terrible.Apparently, but not only. They were indeed. Iwould say that this time was a completedisaster. Classes, tests, family, relationships,friendships, fuck. It seems that the only thing Iknow and I can do is to enumerate. And complain,of course. It seems that the only thing I can dois to enumerate, blame, pointing the finger ateverything that happens and all that makes meinvisible, and of course, I'm already enumeratingagain.Incredible, fucking amazing. Is this mypurpose? Roam the world likean infectious disease, without life for others, ashadow on the sidewalk without a body. Also
Incredible is the fact of having so muchdifficulty in feeling good. Be accepted,integrated. A part of something. There's no neednot be huge, just something. I do not understandhow time passes and slow to show a friend,someone who could make all these contingencieseasier to endure and overcome. All this might beeasier to face with someone with someone next tous, with whom to vent, to occupy the time, thishead with destroyed dreams.Some people complain of having too much to do,too much work, much study, and even though I haveso much to grab, all this loneliness takes mestrength and encouragement. I lack that push thatnever arrives.The worst is that I start not knowing what todo, how to react, and I am constantly assaultedby insecurity. It is as if one side of me wantsto fall asleep and not wake up, and another wantsto try to let go and try out and learn newthings. I want to meet new people, but the stateI'm in does not help me to open up and reallyshow who and what I am.
When I see someone approaching me, I think thatthere is going to begin my recovery, it may bethat help that I so badly need. Then head startsthinking, starts working, creating expectations,create unreasonable illusions that serve only tomake me feel more alone, more lost, throwing meto the depths of my being rotten and decaying.
I feel lonely and forlorn.
With dreams, expectations, needs, but that onlyexist in my mind. They do not materialize.
House feels more like a prison than a refugeitself. Not because they handcuffed me and leftme in a cell but because they do not know how toget out. I feel the lack of affection, lack of akiss, a hug. A human touch in this walking ghost.

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