Nowadays, it is very difficult to live with our own frustrations, caused by situations that we ourselves have created. It is complicated to deal with our inner self. It is also difficult to bear the silence of the innocent and the deafening noise of the guilty, in a world where our shadows project all the frustrations onto us.
It is difficult to go out into the street carrying the weight of the condemned, even with a soul as clean as a baby's. It is not easy to look back and avoid repeating the same steps towards the inner abyss of our solitude.
Why is it so hard to let go of our sorrows and lie down with the purity of a new day? How complicated is it to distinguish right from wrong, without the weight of judgment and without a clear distinction between what is fact and what is not?
Only those who carry the burden know how difficult it is to be able to do nothing or to do everything and not change anything, with everything remaining the same. It is suffocating to realize that every day is the same as the one that has passed. Eventually it becomes tiring, and what is old becomes even older, leaving little time to live and feel true pleasure.
I have no certainties. I have many interests. I have some pains. I have disappointments to share and store. I have hope that everything will change, even though, every day, everything seems the same and I continue to suffer in the same way.
My pain is no greater than anyone else's, and I am no better than anyone else. But what's the point of living if you don't want to feel alive? Life is a circus, and I'm the clown, making the fat pigs laugh. I'm the crushed orange peel, the last cookie in the package.
Is it possible to continue living like this, without hope for better days? Is it possible to live imprisoned in solitude? Is it possible to remain on the edge of the abyss, hoping to find the courage to jump?