Waiting is all i seem to do .

Mi sono resa conto che io aspetto.
Aspetto. Molto semplicemente.
Non so chi, non so cosa. Non so nemmeno perché o da quando.
ASPETTO.

A wish for something more .

Adesso tocca a te.
Fammi vedere che ci tieni, che in qualche modo sono importante per te. All'inizio non sapevo nemmeno chi fossi, poi quella settimana ha cambiato le cose.
Ha cambiato tutto.
Quando non ci sei i miei pensieri corrono a te, quando ci sei, non ti guardo ma sento la tua presenza. Quando mi parli, quando mi sorridi, quando mi guardi, é come se tutto si fermasse.
Niente conta in quel preciso istante.
Sono me stessa.
Poi però quando ci allontaniamo, quando tutto sembra normale, vorrei di più... aspetto il venerdi per poter stare più tempo con te, per poterti parlare di più, perché anche tu faccia qualcosa. Vorrei che fosse cosi facile: venire da te, dirti che.. dirti cosa? Forse che ci tengo, che sei molto di più di quello che puoi immaginare... dirtelo, punto.
Ho fatto il primo, il secondo, il terzo passo.

Adesso tocca a te.

How much longer will it take to cure this?

Jealous, perfectionist, sarcastic, ambitious, intuitive, confused, extroverted, tenacious, determined, possessive, indipendent, dreamer, energetic, intelligent... well, everything you don't like.

People don't know me. Nobody knows me. There are just one or two exceptions which proves the rule. They think I'm stupid, egoist & mean. I'm not. But apparently it's too difficult to just talk to me to see if they're wrong or not, and I perfectly know why.


& when I'm searching for answers, instead I find new questions.

Stufa.
Una parola. Cinque lettere.

È incredibile il modo in cui una parola cosi piccola possa racchiudere in se uno stato d'animo cosi grande. Se prendiamo un dizionario troviamo «annoiato, seccato, stanco». Ecco, sono stanca. In fondo é uguale no? Stufa, stanca, il significato é lo stesso. Ci sono giorni cosi, in cui vorresti solo urlare BASTA. Magari solo per sfogarsi. Oppure bisogna mettere da parte il significato simbolico e lasciare perdere. Semplicemente. Smettere di farsi mettere i piedi in testa, di farsi prendere in giro oppure semplicemente di alzarsi alle 6:54. Smettere di mangiare Kellog's Extra a merenda o di uscire di casa alle 7:53. In una parola si direbbe cambiare.
Sono stufa, a volte senza sapere di chi né di che cosa.

Ho un problema e non se ne rendono neanche conto. Ho bisogno di aiuto, ma pensano che scherzo. Ho voglia di sfogarmi, ma hanno cose più importanti a cui pensare. È vero, quando mi chiedono come va rispondo che sto bene, non perché sia davvero cosi, ma solo perché ormai, é quella la risposta fissa. Viene automatico. Fateci caso la prossima volta. Rispondete bene perché é quello che la gente si aspetta di sentire, perché le persone non hanno più tempo per ascoltarvi, perché tutti vanno di fretta. Forse si pensa che non badando ai problemi spariscano da soli. Non é cosi. In fondo però, anche se quasi sempre rispondo bene, me lo si legge in faccia che qualcosa non va. Quando comincio a sfogarmi però, la persona che mi ascolta comincia a dire «Si é vero, anche a me succede che... » e i miei problemi sono dimenticati.




A volte voltare pagina non serve. Bisogna strapparla.

Am I Missing ?

C’è quel nome che si materializza meno spesso sullo schermo del mio cellulare, c’è quell’accento da ragazzo del sud che non sento più, ci sono quelle serate che mi rendono nostalgica, c’è quel profumo Higher di Dior che non respiro più, ci sono il suo April 77 et le sue sneakers che si cancellano lentamente dalla mia vista, c’è quel bordo di piscina dove cercava la mia mano per rassicurarmi, ci sono quelle «Io vagabondo» e «Se io, se lei» che ascolto meno spesso, ci sono quelle lacrime che mi ha asciugato e quelle risate che abbiamo condiviso, ci sono quei momenti di intimità nel ristorante dell’albergo, ci sono quelle lunghe discussioni senza fine che mi piaceva tanto avere, c’è questa inquietudine che si fa ogni giorno più grande alla paura di perderlo, ci sono quelle foto che continuo a guardare, c’è lei che adesso prende un posto onnipresente nella sua vita, c’è questo modo in cui parlo di lui che è patetico, ci sono quei week end che non avranno luogo, ci sono queste lacrime che vogliono riempire il vuoto, c’è questa cavolo di distanza che ci allontana, c’è questa amicizia che dura da cosi poco tempo ma che è già cosi forte, ci sono quelle serate al bar e in spiaggia, ci sono quelle persone che erano gelose, c’è questo bisogno di saperlo felice, c’è quel lungo mormorio che promette di non abbandonarci mai, ci sono questi segreti tenuti cosi bene in noi.

Devo parlare al presente o al passato?
Il tempo passa, la gente evolve… e anche io.

How Many Special People Change ?

Today I was looking at some old pictures. It's incredible how things change. At this right moment I'm becoming nostalgic, melancholic. It's like if the time had suddently stopped and went back. I look at the photos and without even realizing it, my eyes start to fill with tears. Do I really know the people next to me on those pictures? Some are familiar faces, others I don't even reconize them. Sometimes I stop, remembering all the moments that those photos have saved for me. Some persons are my childhood: they were there in the fall, when the leaves were turning red. They were beside me in the winter, as the snow started to fall and the streets became white. They were present as the spring came and the flowers were all in bloom. Even in the summer, on holiday, they were next to me while I was swimming in the sea. And now? What happened? Where is our friendship gone?

If I could relive those days,
I know the one thing that would never change.

Is Santa Claus Coming To Town ?

Yesterday I finished school at 2.50 pm and went with some friends in town. We were setting at our favourite caffé drinking cappuccinos & hot chocolate, when I decide to go buy some biscuits in the small supermarket just near the caffé. I was looking at all those candies, chocolate and other delicious things, when I saw one thing that hypnotized me: there, on the shelf just in front of me, were standing about a hundred of Christmas biscuits. I couldn't move and stayed there, staring at them. It wasn't because I was happy to see them, because they're my favourite ones, nor because I had finally found what I wanted to buy. It was because I didn't expect to see them there: Christmas biscuits, the 19th of september.

Once more, Christmas is coming.
Three months too early.

Hello Mr. Heartache

Here it goes again. I don't even know where to begin.
Another heartache, another one. How much longer will it take to cure this? I just found out that the guy I liked until... well, not long ago, likes one of my best friends. It has always been this way and it always will be. Maybe if I ask some love, I ask to much. In the end, I'm used to it : well, I know I'm being used and now I know he was doing it too. I'm just wondering if it's gonna happen some day.
It never works. Never.

« What's love? Just a second hand emotion »

So it is, just like I said it would be. Another one who likes her and not me. Right now, waiting is all I seem to do. Sometimes I don't even know what I'm waiting for. I'm here, apparently unaffected, waiting for something to come. Something that I think I deserve.

Or maybe not .

Memoirs Of A Geisha

« Waiting patiently doesn't suit you. I can see you have a great deal of water in your personality. Water never waits. It changes shape and flows around things, and finds the secret paths no one else has thought about - the tiny hole throught the roof or the bottom of a box. There's no doubt it's the most versatile of the five elements. It can wash away earth; it can put out fire; it can wear a piece of metal down and sweep it away. Even wood, which is its natural complement, can't survive without being nurtured by water. And yet, you haven't drawn on those strengths in living your life, have you? »

Memoirs Of A Geisha - Arthur Golden

Summer Moved On

Sometimes I start to write a sequence of words that just make no sense. Even that doesn't make any sense. Maybe it calms me down, maybe it makes me realize that what I'm thinking is right. Yes, it might be.

« It's raining again . »

That's all I'm thinking about. I just look through the window: rain is falling down, I can hear thunders far away. It was a great day, and it's gonna be a great night, though. Maybe the weather isn't always able to change our mood. Some days, you just feel ok. That's it. You can't explain it, you can't deny it.

I'm just wondering... Am I missing ?

Love Is A Losing Game

A famous french poet once said : « I love and I'm loved. It would be happiness if it concerned the same person. »

I think that I never heard such a truth before. Not even two weeks ago, a guy I know said that he loves me. He's jealous of every single person who can spend just a second with me, he wants to be one of them, because living so far away, the only thing he could do is writing on a keyboard. When I heard it, I felt so good, but I'm in love with someone else, who probably doesn't even know I exist, exepct for the fact that he always comes to me when he needs help and already-done-homework.

« Love her. If you can't, just use her. »

It's written in another french poem. Probably almost every person I know read it and thought about me when they were doing it, because it seems like it was written talking about me. They use me and after then trow me away. If I'm still here it's because they probably didn't find the perfect bin yet.

This Will Be My Year

Back To School . Today, 2th September 2008. At 8:45 AM .

Tonight I didn't sleep very good. That's normal, it's always like this when school begins. You want to see everyone, start a new life, because the first day of school is like a new year's eve. After a day or two though, you start to realize that everything is turning the wrong way. At that point, it's up to you to fix it: if you want something, you have to go and get it, because they always say time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself.

Whatever. To come back to the basics, I will talk a bit about me.
I could tell you that I'm a model, that I was born in Milan, I live in London, after two years in Paris, but have an apartment in New York, that my grandparents were brazilian, my other grandpa spanish and my grandma indian, that I once met Johnny Depp while I was in Los Angeles, that Adriana Lima used to be my neighbour when I was 4 years old and she still lived in Salvator de Bahia and that my boyfriend looks just the same as Orlando Bloom.

Would you believe me ?