Rambling: Incommunicability

This post was originally published on Facebook.


Oh for fuck’s sake. This is one of those moments which make me remember why at a certain point in my life I decided to, or at least decided to try to, go for art.

It’s one of those moments in which, on one side, I desperately crave for connection with people. Well not all people. But at least some. More than the usual one or two I mean. Actually at the moment the count is at zero, more or less. I crave for being accepted and welcomed for what I am. I want to belong, I really really really want to. But in order to do that, I need to show myself first, right? And this is a huge problem, because I know what the reaction of people would be (… or I think to know). I know that if I really was myself, the link between us would become thinner and thinner, provided there was one in the first place.

On the other side, I just want to isolate myself. I don’t even want to go through the struggle and the effort to connect with people. I want to stop pretending, always calculating what I’m saying, even planning my Facebook posts (not on this page. On my actual Facebook. But I do a great deal of planning about this page as well) in order to give a certain image of me. An image that is sort of what I am, but only sort of; an image that I deliberately distort (even lying, sometimes). As soon as I uncover myself, I regret it.
I’m actually considering to become even more reserved and secluded than I am. Going to events I like, sure, but never giving away anything of me, with the exception of those one or two persons.
Would people notice it? Would they try to drive me out? I don’t even know if I care.

And, obviously, I’m not even writing what the fuck this is all about. There’s not written why social relations are such an ordeal for me. Partly because I think I’d need to write a trilogy only to explain that. Partly because it’s really not the moment, not now but generally not yet. Partly because probably there’ll never be an appropriate moment. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to really tell people what goes through my mind. I don’t think it could ever be a good idea. No, it would be a dreadful idea. I’m not even sure writing this is a good idea. Probably it’s a very bad idea and I’ll regret it the instant later I’l click on “publish”.

Art helps. I can use metaphors, put big or small parts of myself into my characters, talk in symbols and images, transmit a feeling more than an actual concept, let music convey an idea (… yes, when I’ll be able to actually create some. I do realize that writing shit like this late at night is not a good way to reach that objective).
Art can help me communicate. It’s scary, obviously. It feels like slamming my guts on the table. But it helps. It helps me reaching out to people and communicate that something for which most of the times I don’t even have words myself to express.

So, among other things, I also create this stupid image which tries to sum up in few words what I feel. I’m not satisfied by the result, but this is what you get. It looks like a sort of inspirational meme. It’s not. I don’t want to be “inspirational”. I’m just trying to tell you something, and as you can see I’m not doing a good job, and Facebook gives me more visibility if I post pictures. So here comes the picture.

I must have completely lost my wits to write something like this. I mean, this shit is public.

Fuck it. Fuck everything.


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