For so long I have had nothing to write. I felt overwhelmed with life, and even if I still record my diary at least one hour a day, I stopped writing this online journal.
I am very sorry. For myself, first of all. And for everyone else that used to write in this space and stopped just like me.
I am very incostant myself, and I don’t know why but I haven’t need this place since I left it early a year ago. So, I know it was also right not writing a thing, because I do not need it. I have nothing true to write. And now I am here again…
I am still trying, with life. I try to find my way, I try to be true to myself, I try to learn things and fight. I am writing in the night and I am really tired, not tired to go to sleep, more like tired to try. I won’t stop trying, but I am tired.
I was having an intense year. I spent it trying to find a way to myself first of all. I write my diary daily, I reflect on myself, I am really focused on what I want myself to learn and reject. I even thought I have found out my life at 21: I am going to get marry and to dedicate my life to the peace of a dream I have always have had: being a country woman, that is: being a simple, right woman that lives near to the nature, near to her good being and the honesty of her needs. Now I think: I always wish I was I country girl, but I am born in a huge metropolitan center, and this made me a city girl.
I was never happy in my city; I attended school and was so sad and miserable that I thought I hated the whole world. I knew the country-side when I was a little older, and I spent my days off to my parents country house. I hated it first, just like everything else; but I started to love it, and the I started to think: I would never be happy outside of the country. Every leaf and every tree, every fruits and every flower I loved, loved so much in my heart that I thought I won’t ever leave that place.
Then I felt sad again, because I was living a whole contemplative life and I wasn’t made for that. Again, I discovered myself a city girl. I moved to a new city, where I find happiness again.
I think in all my life, my happiness belongs to the place in which I lived and spent time. The sea, the country-side, the city of Milan -in which I still live too.
Now I am asking myself why I thought that I would be happy only if I lived in a nature based place, that is the rashness itself, if my spirit is so complex, so incoerent and so very much dinamic, just like the place where I was born.
I was so sorry to my city, my dear Rome, that I cannot love. I was so sorry to Milan, that I honestly love, for thinking I can’t live here forever, and be happy. And I am so sorry to myself, because I am still asking me to change, to be the country girl I need, the easy girl I need to be, to find my peace. I am sorry.