Anorexia How It Begins

America

From the window of my house every so often you see America. I was four days in bed with the flu. Like when I'm sick. I have a simple task and clear to play. I just have to heal. The problem is all other times. Job Search work every day but every day is never found. He hides in there somewhere. Meanwhile, the ground around me is crumbling. While the rest stop. Slowly. When I go out and pretend to go somewhere. You do not notice right away. The people who live around it. Women, men. When there is more land, then rush to the famous chasm, and then there will be all so trivially obvious. The bills to pay, to invent excuses for not going out with friends, money to save. These days I found a diary I kept when I was nineteen. Written by hand, when things were written by hand, with the blue pen and calligraphy uncertain, pulled, twisted and suffering. I started leafing through it at random. On 23 September I met a fantastic girl in the men's room of a cinema during the screening of Forrest Gump. We smoked a joint and we kissed. On leaving I asked her phone number and she said it was better not. On July 18 it was raining and I was very sad. On April 5, Kurt Cobain died. In 1994 Kurt Cobain was one of my best friends. On April 16, Irene Pivetti was elected president of the Chamber of Deputies. On April 26, Giusy phoned me and told me that he felt strange. I suggested to take something, maybe it was just a headache. No, I need to spend some 'alone, he said. Ah, ok. Maybe I'll call you tomorrow, I said. But not I never call. Nor has she has done more. I enjoyed a lot Giuseppe. Her hair was the color of honey and green eyes. A big ass packed into the Levi's one size less. This time I attached the phone and I put on a Sepultura album. I turned off the stereo after a few minutes because the music drew me to madness and screaming I scratched the vocal cords. There was a heavy silence that filled my room. I picked up the guitar and I wrote a song in English. I swear I'll never cry again *, I started singing with the voice from screaming irrochita before. Then I burst into tears. That was not the last time. The songs I wrote almost never come true.

* I swear I will not cry anymore.