I am a simple person.
I still perceive life through the eyes of a child, as much as my adult age allows me to.
I prefer to see the joy in moments, to guess new meanings in what happens, to look with the eyes of the mind at what the physical eyes cannot fully perceive.
I want to roam freely across the fields of beauty, to wander through forests of stories, and to love quietly, there where words no longer have meaning.

I constantly run into tall walls of ignorance, I lift my tearful eyes to the sky and seek comfort in the rain, in snowflakes, in the gentle, warm, priceless rays of the sun.
My world sometimes collapses.
I find disappointment where, at other times, I found what made my heart sing.

Strange heart; it sings when it is happy, loved—it also sings when it is broken. Only the tones, the melody, the rhythm and… the beats differ. It beats fast when it runs happily, hand in hand with the one who loves it; it beats heavy and sadly when it remains alone, isolated, unloved and misunderstood.
Have you ever stopped to listen to your heart?

I have often expected precious things from people of little value.
And I only realized far too late how wrong I was.
In my naivety, I believed that if you give enough love to a person, it could be enough for both, with effort from just one side—but you cannot build that way.
Just as a flower needs water to grow, so too does a connection—it needs a seed from one side and a source from the other.
What can you do when you are half of an emptiness, not of a fullness sustained by shared desire? You leave.

I lifted my dusty soul, I saw it—neglected, with its soles bleeding from too much burden. It did not protest, it only waited, in the shadows, for me to realize that I was running alone, barefoot, toward something that did not want to be caught, embraced, loved. I was running alone on a road I had painted in fantastic but false colors—colors that came to life only in my imagination.

And I hit my head against a wall where I thought there was a window letting sunlight in. With disappointment, I looked myself in the eye, in a mirror’s gaze. It was only the reflection of a moment in which, naively, I was lying to myself that I had tasted happiness.

How many mistakes I have made, and how barren is the field where I thought I had built something! It is not the sun that blinds a person, but the illusion of a moment.

I placed my dusty soul down, looked at it for a long time, and asked for its forgiveness. I let it rest. I know well that it still holds a fragment of hope, a drop as small as a tear, that the day will come when I will have the courage to move toward a new adventure. Clearer. More real. More fruitful. More… whatever it may be.

Look, I have gone through enough in this life for a book—or several.
And I am still fighting—do you think someone will come to fight in your place?

Imagine beautiful days in your saddest moments. Can you feel the energy coming?

I used to bow my head to everything and tell myself I didn’t deserve.
I was so terribly wrong, until I understood that I hold the power and the love—I can lift myself up.

People come in the good moments—you see them, you feel them—but you ignore the fact that they will leave, and in the sad moments, it is still you, with yourself.

I found the courage to rise and to look toward the future with hope.

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