At 17, I imagined a decade later to see me like a big career woman, accommodated in a lovely apartment with a costume fitting, a full life and a cool job. Well, 27 years do I deal with that dream.
I still live with my parents in the same room where I dreamed to split the world. In the morning I get up and instead of having a handsome man who kisses me, I'm facing my mother tells me about the time aloud, if not feeling well. The work, then! After various experiences and possible, with a curriculum that has become as big as an encyclopedia, I find myself in the dual role as journalist and absolutely non-remunerated at the same time reorganizing the dusty practices in the agency's assurances of my brother. On the desk I placed my host in plain sight of the comic Office for which I write, but I have the vague impression that no customer noticing.
So the days more or less resemble those of a decade ago. The difference, fortunately, is that I do not go to school and not have to study.
This pisses me off and I can not help thinking that last year at this time I was in New York, where I lived for three months in the dream that I was a teenager. But it was only three months, then went back to the sad reality of my father who burps and shoots crap (at best). Are being lost at home. Incredible, no? Lost in the house. It was not like he had to go and I can not really take it with no one else not with myself for that. Well a bit 'of guilt also has it that this shit country where unfortunately I was born does not offer great prospects for young men like me. I'm afraid, and this is perhaps the worst thing that sooner or later I will lose all the energy to go ahead and try, at least try, a better future. I'm tired and I adagerò on a life that I do not like 50 years and regret the many things that I did. But tell me, tell me, what is the solution to all this? What to do?
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