Ci sono volte in cui leggo perché non ho nient’altro da fare, altre dove leggere è l’unica cosa di cui io abbia veramente bisogno. 

Per passare il tempo, per andare avanti, per continuare ad andare avanti. A volte è il solo mezzo per smettere di pensare e preoccuparmi, altre il mio mezzo per sentire e provare qualcosa del tutto. 

Ed ho paura, quando il tempo verrà, quando leggere diventerà solo un azione, quando leggere non sarà più abbastanza.   


Insomnia or obsession. 

Feelings is probably the word I use the most when writing. That’s because I have so many feels and cannot contain them in my head. They keep coming and going, especially when I’m trying to sleep. They just won’t leave me alone. 

I write here in result. 

My feelings are all over the place. I need to organize them neatly into words before I can feel in peace with myself. 

I wonder why I consider me and what I feel two different entities, like they’re not part of what I am, but are, instead, some kind of weird and unknown animals I’m trying to analyze and classify. 


Happy, sad, bored are not always just that, there’s so much more behind sometimes. It’s all about the in-between shades of grey. 

I’ m a picky person. I try to find the perfect words to describe my emotions and feelings. It’s not always easy and most of the time it takes me a while. I might even forget what I wanted to express, the whole point of the thinking and the frustrating. 

And that’s how I usually end up feeling annoyed.