There was once a story that I read. The Yellow Wallpaper. I don’t remember exactly the “action”, but I do remember how it made me feel. Loneliness in an absurd, meaningless world, struggling among words, hopelessly grasping for air.
Everyone should have ”the people” near them, no matter what, or at least this is how the ancient story of humanity goes, this is how the bedside stories tell us, the films, the fairytales or the books that we read. My Bible. Beyond the success that you have, and the small or the big victories, for each of us there should be somewhere a peaceful, meaningful Ithaca. And instead of this, some of us receive in their lives only cold shoulders, duties, responsibilities, pain, indifference, remorse, and so damn much heaviness.
I envy and I cannot understand people who have this promised story and aren’t able to see what they have next to them, who are unable to get up, to follow their dreams. I want to hit them and make them feel for a second a Yellow Wallpaper. I have always seen Ithaca, with its warmth people from inside, a nucleus, with such energy that someone can overcome all the problems from his/her road. The God, my God, the one that matters God. It doesn’t matter the money (who the fuck has it?), where we live, how far we want to go, how many things we have to do. Nobody’s life is perfect, but Ithaca is the heartbeat of our victories, of what human being means. And at the end, if this turns out to be a Camus story, then where did we go wrong, how bigger were our sins to deserve that, for what we have lived, what was the worth of all these?....
No comments:
Post a Comment