Music you should listen to if you...

NEED TO CRY: You're beautiful - James Blunt / Chasing cars - Snow Patrol / Robbers - The 1975 / Me - The 1975 / Everything unsaid - Jushua Hyslop / Hello hello - Lewis Watson

WANT TO FEEL LIKE A TEENAGER AGAIN: You're all I have - Snow Patrol / Breathless - The Corrs / The man who sold the world - Nirvana / There she goes - The La’s

WANT TO FEEL LOVED: Zina - Babylone / Your body is a wonderland - John Mayer / Lucky - Jason Mraz & Colbie Caillat / Paris - The 1975

WANT TO CHILL, CHILL AND CHILL SOME MORE: Man on the moon - Zella Day / Fineshrine - Purity Ring / Honey - Trace / Mnam - Babylone

WANT TO JUMP ON THE BED: Fascination - Alphabeat / New Shoes - Paolo Nutini / Alright - Supergrass / Dreaming of you - The Coral / Jerk it out - Caesars

NEED A GOOD LULLABY: I won't give up - Jason Mraz / Give me something - Seafret / Please be naked - The 1975 / She lays down - The 1975 /  Beauty sings - Tatiana Manaois / From the dining table - Harry Styles



Healing takes time.
Healing from what? you might ask...

Healing from what you’ve been doing for years and you’ve only just realized is destructive.

Healing from the memories that are preventing you from going on.

Healing from the voices and the thoughts, always telling you you’re not enough and you’ll never be.

Healing from those feelings of inadequacy, uncomfort, apprehension - slowly corroding you from the inside and leaving you with a body that’s held together by skin but is completely empty inside.

Healing from the pain you suffered every time you put yourself into other people’s hands. Hands that didn’t take care of you. Hands that taught you the only one who can take care of you is yourself. 

Healing comes with time
Healing comes with practice
Right now, even a simple:
Healing comes
would be enough. 


Happy places


I often think of my happy places.

John Lennon Wall, Prague. With a boy playing Beatles songs on his guitar, surrounded by writings and drawings of all colours and shapes.

A little fishermen village in Morocco. The sound of the waves at night, gently drifting me to sleep. The cold wind on my skin while I do yoga on a terrace, moments after the sun has gone down for the day.

Holland Park, London. When everything was still incredibly perfect and the idea of being alone didn't even cross my mind.

A balcony in Frankfurt, only an hour before getting on a bus to Berlin. In my panties, talking to a guy who has no idea how much he's done to me.

I could tink of many, many more.

But one question keeps popping into my head: why not home? Why not the house I've grown up in? Too many memories, maybe. Too many unsaid thoughts, unshared opinions, buried-down feelings, too many unasked questions, too many unanswered ones.

Scared of being happy, of someone throwing that happiness in your face when you least expect it.

Scared of ever relaxing, because where I live relaxing is for lazy asses.

Where I grew up, if you hear someone crying, you just close the door and let them cry. If, for any reason, you saw someone crying, you would have to ask them what's wrong and that just does not happen where I grew up.

Where I grew up, hugs are given out very sparsely. They're kept for special occasions. Problem is, no one is willing to take the responsibility of deciding when an occasion is special enough.

Where I grew up, you're supposed to tell everybody everything but you can't expect them to to the same with you.

Things change, places not so much.


A piece missing

Ultimamente mi sento come un puzzle a cui manca solo un pezzo per essere completo.

Lo cerco freneticamente, lo chiedo e lo richiedo a tutti quelli che incontro. 

Ce l’hai tu? E tu ce l’hai? Dimmi la verità, ce l’hai tu? Forse ce l’ha lui... fammi provare, magari ce l’hai tu!

Una ricerca frenetica e incessante, sono esausta, mi toglie il fiato, mi sfinisce, mi impedisce di pensare ad altro, mi porta persino dalle persone sbagliate.

Quel pezzo mancante non è necessario. Meglio che il buco rimanga vuoto, piuttosto che pieno di qualcosa che non gli appartiene. 

Solito turbinio di ricordi: diventano sempre di meno, ma anche sempre di più. 

Spesso ho paura di ricadere nelle vecchie trappole. Come le mine Inesplose. Non so più dove le ho piantate e ora ho paura di metterci il piede sopra per sbaglio. 

Sento di avere tanto da dare ma nessuno a cui darlo.  Quel pezzo mancante.





Ho scelto

Non ti lascerò mai andare totalmente. Sei stato per me come l’acqua per il prato quando l’erba è appena nata. Pezzi di vita mi legano a te. Pezzi di storia ci legano insieme. Una fetta di tempo che condividiamo nel nostro passato.

E ora vorrei poterti tirare su nello stesso modo in cui l’avrei fatto un anno fa. Le stesse carezze, gli stessi abbracci, prenderti per mano. Darti qualcosa a cui attaccarti per non farti sentire questo dolore. Permetterti di piangere.

Spesso son stata egoista, ma mai come ora. Persino oggi sono capace di far sì che tutto riguardi me.

Ho scelto di non avere più i tuoi abbracci e ora devo accettare di non poterteli dare io. Ho scelto di non vedere più il tuo nome sul display del mio telefono seguito da messaggini d’amore e ora devo accettare di non poterteli mandare nemmeno io. Ho scelto di lasciare a qualcun altro il diritto di abbracciarti quando sei triste e ora devo accettare che qualcun altro potrebbe essere lì con te ad abbracciarti al posto mio.


Focus on the cold

I'm not a fan of the cold. In fact, I've often said I hate it.

I like feeling the rays of the sun on my skin. Squeezing my eyes while looking at the summer sun and watching those rays turn into long, shiny lines. I like warm showers, the water running through my hair and down my back. I like sleeping with only an old tshirt on and the window open, 'cause the heat is too much to handle. I have air con in my room, but I never turn it on. It just seems wrong.

However, there are times when I thank the universe for the cold. Very rarely, let me say, but it happens. Nothing beats walking in an empty town at 12.30 at night, breathing in as much cold air as your lungs can take. Keeping it in for a fraction of a second, feeling full, or at least less empty, before you let it out slowly, as slowly as you can, just like they've taught you when they explained to you how to prevent panick attacks. Focus on the breath, they said. And it sounded easy, at the time. It's just breathing, after all. How hard can it be? They didn't talk about the heart beating at full speed, the hands shaking, the head spinning with thoughts.

But there, in the cold, walking along an empty street, silence all around me, it finally seems easier to breath slowly. To focus on the breath.

And for a moment, I believe I can do it.


L’incredibile difficoltà di essere felici

Felicità. Così difficile da riconoscere in quel marasma di emozioni che proviamo ogni giorno.

Essere lì, nel momento, è così incredibilmente difficile. Guardando un tramonto, il sole che scompare linea dopo linea all’orizzonte, il cielo che si colora di caldo, mini persone sedute sulle loro tavole da surf aspettando le onde, sembra l’emblema della felicità. Eppure, ti ritrovi a pensare a tutt’altro - a come quel tramonto lo potresti guardare con qualcuno, a come quel qualcuno non se ne accorga neanche, a come dopodomani sarà il tuo ultimo giorno e poi dovrai tornare alla vita di sempre, quella vita che ti piace, sì, ma non è niente in confronto a questa, questa dove puoi essere chi vuoi e vivere avventure e conoscere gente. E la tua mente vaga. E ti sei persa il tramonto.

Felicità. Così difficile da ritrovare quando fai qualcosa che hai già fatto e che ti ha reso felice.

Piena di aspettative su quanto sarà bellissima quella cosa, su come finalmente potrai sentirti felice e libera e piena ancora una volta, non vedi l’ora. Ma poi non succede. Non la trovi. È un po’ come giocare a nascondino - la stai cercando nel posto sbagliato. Pensi di ritrovarla nascosta dietro certe cose e non controlli neanche quelle dove, invece, lei si nasconde.

Felicità. Così piccolo il momento in cui la provi, così minuscolo, delicato quanto una bolla di sapone. Scivola via, vola, scappa quando cerchi di sfiorarla. E quando ci riesci, quando finalmente la tua mano si avvicina e pensi di avercela fatta, ci sei quasi, allungati ancora un po’, dai che ci sei.

La sfiori.





The biggest fear


We'll get through it, we used to say
It'll be all right, we used to add.
I wonder what we would have said
if we'd known how we are now
what happened to us
how things went.
Months have gone by,
but the biggest fear is still losing you
and the memories of us.


26 things I’ve learnt in 26 years

1) It’s never too cold for ice cream

2) When travelling alone, always bring a book. No need to tell you how boring it is to wait for the food you ordered at a restaurant when your mobile is dead and you don't have anything to keep yourself occupied

3) The word "forever" shouldn't exist in anyone's vocabulary

4) Distance doesn't ruin friendships. Sometimes the bestest of friends are those who live miles away from you

5) As soon as you stop speaking a language, you immediately forget it

6) Never say never (I once said I'd never like chocolate ice cream and now I do)

7) First kisses are always weird

8) You will always wonder whether the path you chose is the right one. Always.

9) As soon as you step out of Italy, good ice cream becomes really really (and I mean really) hard to find

10) You cannot change your family and there will always be things you don't understand about them

11) Don’t drink and drive

12) The people you meet when you travel are the ones who give you the most and you will usually never forget them

13) When somebody gives you an appointment on the phone, write it down immediately ‘cause no matter how good your memory is (or how good you think it is), you will forget it

14) Sometimes we tell ourselves things we would never say to others

15) Nothing beats a good night spent looking at the stars

16) Letting go of the people you believed to be your friends is one of the most hurtful things you'll ever do, but also one of the most liberating

17) Humans are not made to love only one person

18) No matter how horrible a period of your life might seem, it will get better

19) If you have a problem with someone or there’s been a misunderstanding, fixing it is as easy as talking about it with an open heart. There’s nothing an honest and real conversation can’t fix

20) We all have so little time to say the things we mean

21) Every time you read it, “The Little Prince” will teach you something new

22) When love becomes a cage, the best thing to do is escape it

23) After a run, you will always feel better than you did before

24) No matter how good you think you are at growing your cactuses, your grandma will always be better

25) Tofu tastes absolutely horrible the first time you try it, a bit better the second time, quite good the third time and actually enjoyable the fourth. And then you’ll like it forever.

26) Lastly, a cheesy one. Life is a gift. Don't take it for granted.




I’m alone in an empty house.
I wander around, collecting every little thing that once was yours and putting it in a box.
This is gonna be your box.
There’s letters in it, and drawings and receipts and photos and postcards and little notes and dry flowers and cinema tickets and song lyrics and poems,

so many poems.

You were my first poem.
I wander around and pick up a note here, a letter there.
I’m sure I must have a photo of us somewhere, but I can’t remember where.
I end up on my bed.
I look around and I see a piece of tape glued onto a socket.
“Ti voglio” written on it.
You put it there a long time ago and I still can’t bring myself to remove it.

I’m only just starting to realise that I do miss you.

You’re in the little things and in all the time we’ve spent together and in all the knick-knacks I am putting in this box.
This is gonna be your box.
I wonder if I’ll ever be able to open it without crying.
Problem is, you’re not only in the letters and the drawings.
You’re in every single brick of this house.
You’re in front of the gate, sat on your black and yellow moped, with a brown t-shirt on, and we talk and talk and talk ‘til two in the morning cause I've just come back from holidays and we haven’t seen eachother in a month.
You’re in that big, big bed, teasing me because you don’t like the smell of my night cream, but then you hug me from behind before I drift off to sleep.
You’re in the kitchen, soaking biscuits in your tea until it becomes cloudy and I always wonder how you could possibly like having soggy biscuits in your tea.
You’re in my room, after we’ve spent the entire afternoon in bed and the windows have become foggy.
You’re in so many of the songs I have in my Ipod, but it’s just too much of a hassle to delete them 'cause Itunes is impossible to use so I just skip them and listen to something else.
You’re in my ukulele, for all the times we’ve sung together.
My throat hurts, 'cause that’s what happens when your body wants to cry but you don’t let it.
I’m suddently cold and I have goose bumps on my arms.
My glasses are dirty now that nobody’s here to clean them properly.

-Susanna (13/08/2017)