Suddenly she offered me my own words, but feeling them like hers, with the vigor with which I had felt and said them in my first youth, when everything in me was about differing and a world was still distant from learning to integrate. I accused the blow, remembering that usually does not remain the strongest one but the one who resist the most and, almost smiling from the very deep of my very trained fortitude, I answered her that not everybody was a piece of shit, that everywhere there are people who are worth, although it is always easier to remain alone.
In rejecting the fears, it inhabits the biggest of the fears, and the biggest of the anxieties, too. Since we accept the possibility of the worst thing, since we assume that our worst nightmare could come true and take it as palpable, we will begin to reduce this quota of imaginary power that up to this moment it took as an illusion, including the fear of the madness, of the mental weakness, of the emotional ambiguity. The deepest truths, the last secrets, are reached any time we fully fulfil with the first of the rites. The sincerity - playful, tragic or indifferent - for with one himself. There’s no more.
Furthermore, I had survived one of the cruelest scenes of that gender war that I then had to deal with: my ex, envying what the future offered with my actual girlfriend; and my actual girlfriend, envying what was my past with my ex. It is then that one stops talking about love, when one realizes that everything is jealousy or envy, competition, game, war, absurd ways that hide, disguise and end up exposing the simple and deep desire of not wanting to feel too alone in an inherited egoism from generation to generation, degeneration in degeneration, always.