I’m wearing my own t-shirt “Atonement”. I only enjoy the fancy shit, I shall burn it. Atonement is something I will never reach, I don’t want it, I wanna show you I’m doing good and I’m doing better and I’m doing whatever “sounds constructive”. I’m doing my best to get lost. In the last years everything went wrong but I’m a middle class man, my manners force me to wear clean clothes and smile also when there’s nothing to smile for. I cry for bullshit (can’t watch a movie), I smile sincerely when kids are around, but I won’t ask you how you’re doing. You’re doing shit, like everybody. Or maybe you don’t, because you understand how to enjoy a sunny day or whatever simple thing. I’d love that. Only once a horrible episode brought my parents to cry, it was about a tragedy and I’ll never forget my father in pieces on my sister’s bed. But then there’s no need to cry for death. We all die. When my grandfather died, someone asked me how was my mother doing. “I don’t know”, was my answer. We do not ask such things in my family. Something bad is gonna happen, I can’t say I feel it, but in a way “I do”. I’ll behave like I have to, I know the rules. Last morning a guy asked me if I was religious, I told him it doesn’t matter, I’ll be buried in our family chapel, that’s all.
I realize at times I’m with people and I don’t talk. I listen and watch. I look at people. I can be silent among people for hours. You like me only because I’m part of the game. I’m a good player, I’m sociable, all the shit you want. Since I know you (all) I’ve never said a smart thing, think about that. I only say comfortable things. You tolerate me for one reason or another, I know him or I’m a friend of her or we slept together years ago. In Rome, the last months before leaving Italy were uneasy. Once I got kicked in the streets, we know that. A kick in the back and one in the face, then the pimp got me from the ground and took me on his side. And all the people. I liked and knew a lot of people in Rome. We disappeared, I’m not there, you’re not there. This one guy met me in the bathroom in a venue there once and I couldn’t remember his face, he said “sure now that your band is known you don’t give a shit!”, and people talking about me being fucked up and all the shit. For a few months I abandoned the scene, gigs, parties, all the fancy boredom. If I feel any strenght in what I do here, now, in Berlin, it’s because I’ve already lived long enough in a capital city where I would move a lot through things. The past has made me strong but it has also revealed all the truth already. I do really care about the things you do, I do care about helping you with this project, I do care about supporting you, I do care about the fact you couldn’t shit today. I really do, and I do know you don’t. Tell you have spent the morning with me and I’m nice but a bit fucked up, tell I came to your event and I looked still interested in you, tell I’ve followed you to the bathroom, tell it, they’ll agree and it will be it.
You is you and you is not you. I need to write things down, it doesn’t matter anybody reads it. I’m just disappointed in myself. I’m not only like this.
I’d like to disappear, once again. I probably won’t but I’m drained. I feel no joy in anything, I float and at some point I’ll drown. People live their life and they are happy with the fact they’re doing it decently. I respect you, but for me it’s not enough.
You can just spare me all the bullshit like “hey baby what’s up”, I won’t answer. This is so pathetic, sure it is, but you have no clue how cold I feel. The more I get confident, the more I get distand. It’s a bit like that one who called me one week ago “my love”, sure it was bullshit, but we were having a nice time so it was part of the game, and instead of feeling good, I felt violent. Treat me well for the next ten minutes, then leave me emptier than before. Thank you.