Not the time to cry

Only silence was left. And sweat.
Trapped somewhere, in a place made of breaths, I could only allowed some thoughts to cross my leaky brain with misted synapses. Slowly. More and more slowly.
The ridiculous running attempts caused a timid smile that I was not able to express physically but that made me perceive myself with definite self-irony.
But then, fuck off.
I’ve always been convinced that to survive it is necessary to smile in front of the adversities, and knowing how to embrace them in their totality and as they come is fundamental.
And to let them go, when the time comes.
Especially if they are imposed only by ourselves.
Because it’s too easy to forget to smile for a long time. Too much time.
Maybe forever.
And then it takes a great effort to remind us that that crap – the one within us – must be throw out, every now and then. With healthy anger.
And then smile.
Forgive yourself.
And restart.

Because it’s not the time to cry.
Not even when the tears fall from the eyes, freeing us from that sense of oppression and bad feelings that we are capable to inflict to ourselves. With a sort of cruelty that we would never have towards someone else. Maybe.
And perhaps this digging, this getting to the bottom, this getting lost and finding yourself again is useful to make those buried smiles reappearing inside. Deep inside.
Overwhelmed by the security that takes away time, desire and dreams. By that security we try, for once, to “run into”.
It is not about the effort. Nor about being strong.
We are not looking for firmness.
But smiles. Silences.
And the true glances of those who want to joy with us in the gruelling lightness of every moment.
The screams surround me as an applause awakens me from that numbness caused by the sultriness that completely envelops my senses.
Beer falls from above without giving me the time to think about it.
And while the bubbles come out of my nose I think that the real, fucking, magic of all of this comes from those who didn’t start.
The ones who do all this just to make me run, even if I don’t know if I’ll be able to get to the finish.
Those who fight hard to create something so beautiful and true because it is what they would like to live too.
And that they’re not going to live. At least not this time.
And then I think that perhaps the real effort is theirs.
Not mine.
And I feel honored. And I feel that I want give my best till the end.
Because it has to be like that, no matter what.

I think I’m starting to smile again.
I’m exactly where I should be.
In a metaphysical place, in that magical somewhere where trees become shapes and lights and then, sounds.
Together in a biographical collective experience that revolves around our intangible fibers, we don’t care what tomorrow will be, because we will try to expand this moment into a temporal promise that unites us all in memory but, above all, in intentions.
In efforts but, even more, in ideas.
And then I sit down, leaning against the dark, and allow my will to leave space for melodies and voices.
A ceiling made of green leaves like those emotions that, too fresh to be understood, mix with the sudden and confused memories that won’t let me sleep.
But I decide to let myself go, to stop thinking.
I don’t want to dream again.
I want to be ready to go after this absurd dream of real smiles, which has led us all here.