Shiny Happy People! (PD #1)

Where to begin with?

It's been years since I sit down to write whatever pops in my head. I don't know if I'm still able to listen to that voice within that embraces you softly and makes your fingers move fast, jumping from letter to letter to create the whole piece of you that's dripping in that very moment.
I don't know... but still it worths the try.

Music has been with me since I was bron there in 1989. They tell me it was a freaking hot August but I can't recall... anyway, ever since I was a child my father and my older and single brother has taught me how to appreciate the emotions and the feelings that music awakes in you. From classic to the 70's rock, stepping through the metal zone and ending in developing my own musical taste. Eclectic. That's what I am.
I've neveer been good at choices. Ever.
Everytime a choice stood in front of my nose, I ran away, the same rusty and old words my tongue seemed to have memorized and spat mechanically: "I don't know."

Can you taste the irony? Can you see it above and below? Sure I do. But that wasn't what I wanted to express here. I was craving for an ear. For a listener. A true one. No one ever came, not in the way I was expecting. I'm not talking about sadness here, jut wanted to point that everytime it seems life is smiling at me, the smile turns out to be a grin, charged with apathy and malice. Far from home, in the same country but far still. I ended up here because of a girl, and now that girl has just dumped me. But I'm OK. It's not that what I regret. What I can't stand is that feeling crawling from every inch of my body. That scream that wants to break free in a explosion of anger and hatred. Do I deserve this? Sure life is long and I'm just 22, but there are many of my friends who already have a PhD. There are other which are wroking and have goals in life. I had a goal once. I wanted to become the greatest (laughs) translator of all time. English-Japanese-French, that was about to be my sword, and my sheath, love. I have neither one. What do I have then?
I have my mind, I have experiences, I have plenty of words to fuse in my brind. Yet the backdoor of my mind is darkness. There's a sign down there which says "Warning". I've always ignored that.

Right now I'm treating other people (friends) problems when I should be trying to solve mine. But I've always been this way. Innocent and stupid if you have to put an adjective to it.
It's not luck what I want (which would be sweet) It is love, it is love to myself, confidence. I feel like running away to some faraway place to never return. That would be crazy. That would be wise. That would never happen, not now. I'm tied and bound to this land, to this city I hate so much sometimes that I wanna go to the highest skycraper and yell at everyone " WHY DON'T YOU FUCKING DIE?" That are the times when I'm blue. When I'm green, or gold or any other colour, I'm just drifint across this huge world full of shadows and grey tones. I don't want to sound depressing, I give you as a gift that apathy stalking me everywhere I go. I don't want it. I just want to be at ease. Feel that what I do is the rightful thing to do not because it's expected from me but because I want to be it that way. But I don't find the words to express it clearly. I guess they're hard to came up with. Let's go get'em! It's just that... that it seems that everything I want to do or I'm doing is just another cliché. Something I don't want in my life.

What do I want?
I want selfrecognition, I want to change, no, to swap my mood, my personality.
I want love in my life
I want to be a man. To be mature.
I want kids. I want to be happy. I want to travel the world.
I want to see so many things that I know it's impossible to reach out for it. I want to feel right when doing what I have to do. I want to believe in this society and in this world. I want to believe more in myself. I can't.
I lack everything. Of course I have love, which is important for me, but not the love I want. I want someone to worship. I've got so much love to give but it looks like nobody wants nor has the recipe for it. Nobody wants to hold it.

Nothing like wake up stiff in the morning feeling as if hell's been scorching your throat and numb because of the headache. Oh, and you have to add the sweet noise of the lawnmowner and the relentless humbling of the cell phone. Fuck You Helena, I don't give a shit about your problems nor your damn keys. You can stick them into whatever hole of your sick body you preffer. (You'll have to excuse for that!)
Oh, I forgot, I'm sick again! Yeeha! And walking at a worrying pace. Go-go-going down!
Hope that a nice cup of coffee psychs me up a little, otherwise my face is gonna be worthy of laughs and prances.