Il Nittalope

I am easily satisfied. Even if probably a lot of my friends will tell differently, I am. And tonight, after the weekly football match (by the way, having taken 3 paracetamol in the last 24 hours it's a clear indication that you will struggle during a football match, mark my words!), I sad down, saw my new thermos, that I bought less than a week ago, sitting on the table. There's tea in it, I knew it, because I prepared it at 5 pm. And it's 9:30 now... so probably the tea will be already cold. IT. WAS. NOT. Ah, that's a reason to have a life, after all... right there! (Still enjoying the second cup, by the way, just before heading to bed...)

When I was a kid, and also late in my teens, and even further in my twenties, I enjoyed reading fictions book... I am not sure if this is the correct word. Anyway, books about invented stories, not reality, not history books. I enjoyed even then the once in a while history book, or the physics manual (or ants... if that matters). Past the thirties I started developing a taste for manuals, research papers and the such. And that's true that I can't even remember the last fiction book I have read (barring the eventual re-reading of some of my favourites like LOTR or Lem's Solaris and the Invinceble, or Garcia Marquez Cien años de soledad). I am really not sure why something like that happened. I believe it's related to my dislike of any story that ends badly: if I already know that it will end badly it's not an issue, but if I have to be passionate about the outcome and than everybody dies... no way I'd read it! So lately I've read the history of the c...

It is difficult to understand what's going on in my life. For me, I mean. I am never too clear regarding what I really want, what it is important for me and what I would LOOOOOVE to do. Truth is that I really don't know what I like. I am a bit too apathetic in all the aspects of it (my life). I fear to commit to some specific hope, so that it cannot be crushed under the waves of life. Not that it has always happened something like that, I should say... but hey...sometimes it has happened so I am entitled in my fear! So, there are so many things I like that I cannot pick a favourite one. I am positive that I definitely love to play football. That is for sure. I can actually say that there is no place on Earth in which I feel more at ease than any football pitch (7 a side up to 11 a side, maybe 5 a side is not really my place). And I am a bit scared about that. But of all of the other things... did I love maths? Or I prefer physics? Or maybe natural biology? Or history...

Tomorrow it's September the 3rd, 2015. It's an anniversary. A HUGE one. Two years ago, on that day, I was dying. And not slowly dying , that had been going on during the previous months. On the 3rd of September 2013 I stepped out of a door and my soul, my spirit simply crushed in pieces and disappeared. There's no easy way out of such situations and, anyway, I am the worst at going out of such situations. I died and walked the next year or so as a soulless spirit. Still today I can feel the desperation of that day. Everybody feels and reacts differently, everybody is strong in some situations and weak in others. On that day I could not stand. My legs could not withstand my weight. Nothing in my life before and nothing after (up until now, of course) felt so hard to pass through. I felt so crushed that I could not breath and simply take the next step was something I still consider the biggest achievement of my life. That happened exactly two years ago, minus o...