I (just) want

There are a lot of things I really want to do, there are a lot of things I really want to feel. There are a lot of things I really want to live and taste it. There are a lot of things for me in the world. So, I don’t get it why I’m stuck in here, why is the world keeps us somewhere?

If anything has to happen, it will happen, no matter where we are. The place we live in won’t bring us happiness if we can’t find it inside ourselves.

Sometimes I just wished I could disappear from here, from everywhere and walk around the world, meeting places and corners lost in this enormous world where mobile phones and internet doesn’t reach it.

Sometimes I just wished I could be adventurous enough to live without anyone beside me, just leave and live with my own craziness and create my own world written in many pieces of paper and lands.

I guess this place is too small for me, I guess this country doesn’t have much to give me. I feel like there is no country in this world big enough for my madness. I just want to be able to see the things that I see without feeling weird and strange or monstrously mad.

Honestly, I’m really tired of seeing people wearing suits and make-up and false dreams. I’m tired of all those socially-correct things that don’t work outside ones head. It just makes me feel like I’m walking inside a smelly hole-shit without a way out, and I look around and see fake smiles with fake thoughts

Sometimes I just wanted to run away from all this, to go away without destination, without hope or expectations…just leave without any regret or a feeling that I left something undone behind me.

I want to comb the jungles and the icebergs, to smell every flower, and climb every mountain. I just want to be free like I never was. Fall asleep anywhere comfortable, uncomfortable, doesn’t matter. I want to eat when my body needs fuel; I want to scream each time my lungs feels pressed.

Someday, one day, maybe sooner than I'm thinking, I will pack my back bag and I will travel without return. I will bury my imperfect body somewhere perfect to die, far, too far away from this clump where people creates its society.

I want to be crazy enough to leave with my diary book and an old pen and go to those places, where I don’t have a clue where my imagination finishes and the reality begins. I want to travel the world as well as inside myself, touching every wall of me, digging each desert of my subconscious and find the most important things of me, the answers that I always needed and I always looked for.

They say “God”, I say “myself”. What God has to do with it? Nature has! And I don’t want to die in this world made of people and commerce…is it too bad to feel this way? It is too weird to wish more than this hypocrisy that we live in? I really don’t know, but I just feel like it is time to move to another level where Gods and angels and devils aren’t more than parts of me, parts of my body and my soul; just names to describe few tiny things full of small details.

I want to invent words, and feelings, and steps, and personalities…I want to create my own world, with my own days and times. I want to be part of me and, more important, part of the world I’m living in. I know this doesn’t make much sense, but…that’s me!