not want to return to Italy.
have already passed 'two weeks since I started living my dream and I realize that time is passing too fast. I do not want, I do not own.
Every moment, good or bad it is, I have lived with the intensity 'of a hurricane. I felt at home, I felt loved, I felt alone, I felt lost in a place never seen before, I was angry, I was carefree, I have to try things and I think (and hope) still a lot to prove . But there 'one thing that never changes, the fact that I do not want to return. I miss understand everything the first time, I miss pick up the phone, go out and organize something, I miss having friends who know me well, I miss being understood, but other than that ... I do not miss anything. I know that when I come back 'I'll feel' always a fish out of water, I know I will have to 'just get by putting together the pieces of a million things that are shattered because' others do not bother to keep it all together, take care more 'other than myself, chasing people, being sick, see the where there is no good ', always not quite hear, walk and see only concrete, with no smiling face, with no one stops you to say "I love your shoes!", or whatever that Josh sits next to you and begins to talk without making an idiot to try and take without shamelessly. without a family again, without someone who cares for my breakfast. I'll have to 'go back to all this, I'll' return to be switched off and without hope. And I do not want such a thing. 'Cause here I'm fine,' cause this wrong and 'my fault, not the other, not because' people are too stupid and closed minded and do nothing but block the road. Tornero 'in the damn place. Good heavens, I'd do anything to stay here any damn thing. Funds passes the will to live, really, especially when you realize that's not you have something wrong, but that place. I get anxiety if I think I will have to 'leave all this. A sister, a sister and a brother, an uncle who is 'almost a grandfather and another and' as a father, a great father. And the green, the streets, the houses ... the train where he meets every day someone special. Even music, when listening here has something magical. But maybe I have something magical here, something that will soon have to 'leave. And here we would be perfectly a sigh of resignation and silence, 'cause really, there' more to say. I do not want to have to leave my house, I will not.
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