Write to embarrassing situations is embarrassing itself, partly because the reader knows. Maybe none.
An arm on her shoulder with impunity (fuck that meant? What an idiot I am), a look that must have seemed safe, just a little 'perhaps tinged with fear. A voice similsimpatica, unbroken, well audible, but perhaps, as often happens to me, a little 'too hasty. A request naive as a child am. We go out sometimes, come on. So, we know a bit 'more. But the pearl
were his eyes. It 'was very bad, for a moment: they were not disgusted, or angry, maybe a bit' surprised. But they were hallucinating. Absolutely incredulous.
"No, really, just no"
Not at all.
In fact, after the sickening moment, since, as mentioned, more from his eyes by the refusal in itself, did not seem to be too angry or disappointed. I've got tried, oh well. A shame, but we do not lose your head. And I think even now. Besides, I had already been mentioned earlier by my advisers.
Not so last night when I flew home.
A little 'tipsy, Oh well, this is normal, I find myself more when I'm almost completely sober. But I was black with rage. Anger at myself but also for the world (that phrase of shit. But I do not want to be a stupid act of adolescent rebellion suppressed. I was really angry, but I do not know how to express it in words only. Not only hated him, this world but I hated it. I hated trees, poles, trash bins, the passing cars, the houses of cement, parquet depressing. Not so much the concept of the world, but its all the little elements that compose it. What I saw, not what I imagined as a "world")
Oh well, close 'is digression, let's go forward.
singing voice lost songs from the sounds violent and erratic (me are allowed, there was no one around), brisk walk, torn branches, leaves, pulled some football that was in turn.
Several meters later, I found myself in front of an oak tree. Even now, angry, tore the leaves. But I cried my heart.
I do not know to explain, but the oak is not a tree any, is an important tree. An ancient tree, here. Now, I do not say that oak trees grow in Brescia of the Virgin Mary, but it is a plant that respect, I inspires awe, that instills in me a feeling of epic and antiques. I am sorry immediately of my act, instantly. I touched the trunk and I apologized. I do not know why.
At home I thought about it a bit ', before going to bed. I even tried to cry, and there was sadness, but tears do not. No tears. Throughout the evening I felt a void in me, the lack of something, a part that allowed me to be complete. Throughout the evening, except when I hit that oak tree. There was just me, I think. Perhaps a gesture and a sensation caused by alcohol, but I do not believe in these things. Less than great unraveling (and this was not the case) that alcohol does bring to light what we are. Perhaps amplifying, making it much more theatrical and comical and idiotic than it is, but the effect is this.
When you are alone, then you can be sure that you're doing it to appear, or influenced by the presence of others. Simply are unable to contain his thoughts. Sometimes it's good.
that though, all this seems stupid. It seems stupid to ask so, shamelessly, naively, to a girl (which by the way I knew for some time) to go out, I feel stupid kick to the posts or tear branches, it seems silly to apologize to an oak tree. But not excessively so. Just a little '.
A little 'stupid. That's it.
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