A brand new life
I open the window this morning,just to find the sun kissing my forehead like the Dad I've never had. It's a new day. And meh, I'm fuckin' sleepy.
When I decide to make it to the other side of the room, my ton-weighing feet just do not want to arise from the floor. I just slide them across the chamber, up to the door of my closet. A brand new day requires brand new clothes. Yeah, but sometimes a new head would be just fine.
Yesterday night, when I went to bed - alone, mind you, for the splendour I drove home wasn't interested in some action -, I resumed my life with three simple words: "Well, it sucks." That wasn't only because of the pretty's refusal. Hell, I'd never value my life depending on what a jerk with a cute face says! No, it was a more concrete, widespread and general feeling of disgust and repulsion. My Life sucks - and I'd grown so accostumed to it sucking, that the sickness coming from it seemed quite natural.
Now, since I was quite fed up myself of my Life being an awful succession of disappoinments and defeats, I made up my mind on changing something. Not one of the big changes, those who turn you into another person from one day to another. Something smaller, something little, something my size - tiny changes, but progressive.
Alright, waking up with slumber in your eyes isn't the best self-esteem booster, especially if that's the first day of the rest of your life, but anyways, what did you expect, that I got up fresh and new after a troubled night like that? What do you wanna know, if I cried? Well, yes. I cried. C'me on, don't look this surprised! Also men cry. Those fuckin' tear-producing cells must have a purpose, after all, which is not only keeping your eyes somewhat clean - if that was the case, there would be less blind guys walking round when Love strikes you with his morning star. Why, yes. I do not believe Cupid's a scrawny dwarf with bows and arrows. Actually, I imagine it as a barbaric football-player who goes round the world with a morning star. That'd suit him much more. And why so, you ask? Geez, guys! Love is powerful and cruel, you can't keep on picturing it as something beautiful. People die for Love. How can it be pretty, if it leads you to suicide? Alright, there's this magnificent part of it which is made of kisses, sex, fake promises, friendship, complicity, great times together, someone to rely on when you feel crap... But it's not always like that! There's this shitty side of Love - one of its many, since Love is polimorph just like demons -, a side which is always kept hidden, otherwise people would have no more babies and our species would extinguish. It's like that room or closet or drawer in the whole of you house, where you cram in all the worst feelings, the disappoinments, the days you spent lovesick, the heartaches... All of this shit. That hidden drawer, that secret diary which no-one can open, well, that's the special part of your heart that goes rotten. Love not only keeps us alive, it also gets us to die for it. That's so fuckin' twisted!
Anyway, I cried. Yes. Not like a crybaby, but like a man. I understood there was a part of me decaying at the speed of light and decided to mend it, heal it the best I could, can and will be able to do. I did not weep because I was afraid of the future. The hell, I know nothing about it! I might not even be alive tomorrow, so why should I be any afraid? It's my present that scares the hell out of me. That creeper.. It's my present that requires attention, that needs to be corrected, that is always about to be shitty and conditionate my future. I cried for my present, because I was fuckin' sick of it.
My daily routine used to be:
wake up with a mofo headache,
swear in a very refined fashion,
hitting something with my knee or toes, for I'd be walking in the dark like the twat I am,
bathroom - where you can expect another hit, the soap dropping all by itself, the never-hot-enough water and me insulting my reflection in the mirror for looking crappier than the day before,
mobile - usually one-two calls from my brother, which are getting more sporadic as the time goes by, since I tend to ignore him like any good brother should do,
clothes - once elegant, now still pretty cool, but shabby to my standards,
unsweetened coffee - By the time I'll get back home, there'll be 6 cups of that bitter liquid running through my veins.
brisk walk to the railway station, since taking the car to travel up to Palermo is just like declaring war to yourself,
work - well, I pretty like my job, actually. I work for the anti-mafia commission there at the police station. I basically help my country getting rid of those motherfuckers by filing stuff, piling documents and organising notes and archives. It may seem boring if not also easy, but I can assure you when your collegue gets back with a hole in the chest, you feel quite motivated.
lunch - That's sacred, blessed and dedicated to the Holy Virgin herself. Who was not a virgin, but no-one gives a fuck about it as long as we have a day-off more on the days of her celebration.
work, again - hey, I'm stuck in there for 8 hours!
And after work... nothing. I can't always remember the rest of my days. I usually hang out with some guys from work or slouch on a bench just outside the town with an ice-cream cup in the hands or go visiting some old acquaintance or relative or go up to some café to read the news for a coffee. I seldom invite someone out or hit on some marvelous creature - I'm not that young any longer and the blue stains on my face aren't as sexy as I wish them to be.
No emotion in my life, just the constant, ceaseless repetition of the same nothingness. If it wasn't for work, I believe I would've morphed into one of those boring right-winged fanatics, maybe a catholic extremist - even if I can't really see me going all "God said this, God said that!". I can't bear those people: they state such nonsense as "God is against homosexuality and any other form of family which isn't man-woman and mistress in the wardrobe.". Yet, those dickheads never point out that in the Bible it's clearly said that you can rape a woman for 30 pieces of silver, sell your daughter and some other shit against women and other members of mankind. Alright, it's a good book if you wanna learn some morals, but you have to rub out some pretty hard stuff about slavery and crimes against humanity - or just shut the fuck up. I've got nothing against the Bible, I'm Catholic myself, but hell, I do believe it needs to be interpreted - Damn, it's been published over 2000 years ago! But no, those guys have dog-crap where they should have brains and believe that "Do not mix blood with blood." means "Do not let a doc save your fuckin' life.". Can't they get it actually says "Don't have sex with your relatives or your children might born with terrible genetic damages."? Still, they decide themselves they're excellent orator and preach a fake truth. Alright, you wanna be a priest without reading and the most important book of your own religion? Well, don't mess with me, then - for I've read it.
That was pretty harsh, but it's been a long time since I've kept it all in. I needed to tell it. Ah! You can't imagine how well I feel right now. It's a sense of liberation, of freedom, it's like having fresh air invading your lungs and bringing you up in the sky with it! I feel great - and I'm just choosing my clothes. At any rate, if I didn't have my job to keep me connected to reality, I'm sure I would become an Uncle Scrooge myself, with the only difference that I've never had much money and doubt I'll ever have any. And I lack not only money, but also a real family. Actually, if it wasn't for my brother, I would be fuckin' alone. I would probably turn into a freaky misoginist mysantropist xenophobe. I also believe I would turn sexist, just because when you have no good woman by your side, you tend to despise the half of the world which has no dick between the legs.
Anyway, that's the reason for me crying. I was afraid my present was so shitty, I would become myself one of those assholes I actually have mercy for. In the end, I would hate myself for no apparent reason, get even more irritable and turn into a lone jerk of a Nazi closed in some renting house in the depths of my island. Well, that's terrible, innit? That's why I wanna change something NOW - because tomorrow might be too late, too late to find happiness.
Now... Now it's the new day, so I hope my present is gonna improve somewhat. Not all by itsself, sure. I will be there to lead it towards something less disatrous than before, for as much as I can- at least, that's my purpose. As I told you, I'm not expecting anything big -not in a week's time, at least. Yet, I have no patience, so results better have to come soon.
What will I do, you ask? Well, first of all, I'll drink less coffee. Those 6 cups a day are really killing me. I'm not saying I won't drink it any longer! I'll just reduce the amount of black poison I inject in my veins, that's all! Instead, I'll get some more sleep. An hour or two, not too much, but a healing balm for my nervous system. I'll eat better - not that I eat badly, but I suppose having a salad from time to time isn't awful. I'll call my brother, have a long talk with him and get him to meet each other once a month. I wanna spend some more time with my family, with those I really care for. I'll find someone who's interested in a relatonship with me. No fuck-friends, just... Someone nice. Waking up together, paying the bills, discussing the football match or the latest TV show while having some pepperoni pizza... A healthy relationship with a (hopefully) not too unhealthy partner. I'll find a hobby or take up a course or go to the library more often. The idea is to get me occupied for at least 3 days a week. 3 day a week need to be dedicated to SOMEthing, something which does not involve anyone else's life but mine. And... and. There are many ideas in my head at the moment, but thoseare steps that will be walked in the future. Today, I'll just diminish from 6 to 5 coffee.
Yeah, from 6 to 5 coffee. That is what I'll do. I'll start living.
-Start
And you? Are you Living or still waiting for Prince Charming?
For those who might wonder:-Palermo is in Sicily, the big island right below Italy.
-Since the character is Italian, coffee for him means 75mL of bitter Espresso.
-Anti-Mafia organisations are sections of the Italian police department, because YES, Mafia is a problem.
-In the South of Italy, you never get less that 15°C. That's why he can have ice-cream whenever he wants.
-It's very common for (especially old) people to meet up at the pub or at the café in the afternoon, since they're no more part of the "working mass", and have something together, play cards and discuss the latest match. That's why he can visit his acquaitances this ofte and without worrying about bothering.
-Here the railway stations are better-developed than in other countries. (Not saying they're the best, though). Not only: it's very common for Italian to travel by train, taken that driving in our cities means committing suicide.
-Other questions?