Translated another diary entry from the first book. Always thought this was a really beautiful one, even if sad.
May 4th 2008
I’m in an ordinary business lounge of an airport of which the name doesn’t really interest me.
I feel melancholic.
Since I left home, I’ve spent the morning observing the people that were holding hands.
I counted them, studied them, scrutinized them, analyzed them.
I tried to imagine what was really between them, imagining I was lost in their lives, lives of which I know nothing.
I miss someone beside me.
It may be the large window I’m sitting in front of, it may be the English rain that continues to fall down on the asphalt of the runways, it may be this going back and forth that I resign myself to, each time I realize that taking a stand, just once, is too difficult and painful for someone who feels as fragile as I do.
The fact is that I’m not able to laugh, not even if I rely on the Tiziano that’s been able to react in the darkest moments.
Sometimes I forget how delicate it is, the feelings that can arise between two people, probably because I’d risk not sleeping anymore.
It’s love that keeps me awake, more than the anxiety or any other negative emotion.
I struggled not to cry, just before the security checkpoint.
A girl said goodbye to her boyfriend with an endless suffering in her eyes.
They kept embracing each other while he waited for his turn.
For a little while they held tight, then they’d look each other in the eyes.
They were separated only when the guy’s turn had arrived, by then he really had to go.
I’ll never know for how long they won’t see each other, but just past the checkpoint he started crying, in a way that suggested it’s a great distance and a very long time.
It’s when love reveals itself that I can’t help but want it.
Even though it seems trivial, I’m not able to stop writing it and repeating it to myself: I want to love.
I’m afraid that, if I stopped, I would end up getting used to not doing it, or worse: I’d settle.
I don’t want to run the risk of those who, feeling defeated, surrender to a forced cohabitation with a now catatonic heart.
I have to avoid opening a beer out of boredom, it’d be a big mistake.
Rather, tonight I go to the gym, it’s often open until midnight.