What do you expect from people inhabiting places on the verge of moral and intellectual death? I look around the room, and everything seems to be telling me this, from the bookshelves regurgitating disorder to the scraps of too-lived items nobody could make use of anymore.
What do you expect? Understanding, support, nodding motions? You’re walking in dangerous waters, on a line dividing liberation from derision and mockery. Ungrateful son of your fatigued ancestors, of your deprived parents, of your generous soil. Why never finding peace in the actual benefits of an interred life, with every possibility projecting the reassuring shadow of stasis for years and years and years to come? Why not enjoying the safety of deceasing things – morals, emotions, pride, plans – their comforting smell of nothingness? Why not admiring the bravery of hopelessness residing in normal mediocrity?
The ungrateful and selfish heap of flesh that you are will eventually rot as any other: it won’t look more graceful, it won’t shine in the dark of your cairn, if you’ll ever have one. Besides, you’ll have wasted the comprehensive stare of your peers, you’ll find yourself alone. No flock will build a steady wall around your once restless legs. Do you understand what it means?
Isn’t this what they are always thinking when talking to you, when you seem to be idiotically caressing those delusions of grandeur, considering inside every working brain cell the possibility they will bring you somewhere? Aren’t they the ones shaking heads and telling that was to be expected from somebody with those all upside down organs, no sense of reality, no ability to get ready to live as the wilful victim of nothing but lack of a principle-driven insides? Are you aiming at your own self-destruction, severing your roots like that? Willing to do it with your mouth constantly filled with bile and resentment? Do you really think you’re better than them?
Do you really think they care at all when they look down on you, that it’s not only simple jealousy to direct their well-pondered wisdom?Are you still allowing them to steal significance from you, just to see them swallow it like any other matter without importance, like their trampled self-respect at the gym, their oblivious afternoon naps, their evenings at the saloon, asses abandoned on a barren vacuum of exhausted plastic and metal?
Non ti curar di loro ma guarda e passa. What’s yours is yours only: the dignity and the hope.