And it is all right, I am forcing there you, call the police he turned and it directed him to take the telephone.
I went out on the balcony, I climbed on the moulding.
Seven floors.
Who knows how much the flight would have lasted from there to earth.
Perhaps a pulsation of eyelashes, perhaps the time of a life.
I made a breath, I closed the eyes and I jumped in the void.
At the end of the accounts what I had lived, all of my experiences, all of my transgressions seemed me so bleak, so deprived of sense.
It seemed me to have lived on a train that has never reached his/her destination.
I looked for the money, I aspired to the success, I wanted fame notoriety. For the whole life I have not done anything else other than to pursue something, something that I didn"t even know me thing was, I made me enchant from fatuous fires destined to disappear in the time and not to leave him behind anybody trace.
I have only a memory that after so much time the heart still heats me: Giorgia.
If I/you had stopped with my job to the Lady Violet, if a time finished the studies I/you was found me a normal job, if I/you had planned my life following some healthy principles, now I would not be perhaps me in this situation.
Even I would have married Giorgia, she would have had some children from me, we would be been able to be a happy family, with his tall and low, certain, but however united by the love that you/he/she would have tied us.
Who knows, an only woman would have been able even to satisfy me more than the hundred that I have had, we could live happy together, happy to be wrong, happy to face united the difficult moments, happy to reconcile after a quarrel or to know that once returned home there was always someone that loved you to wait you.
Common people hate his/her own lives and dream those of people as me, great characters, p.o.r.no actors, full of women and money.
Now I envy instead theirs of life, a true life, a life with a sense, a life that allows yourself some beautiful memoirs, a life worthy of lives.
It is this according to me the true dark side of the red lights. On the set you are someone, a character, a true idol, but out of there you are not anything, only a heap of meat with an enormous void in the breast.
Today the man doesn"t die here, today the star dies here!
Of me they will speak the televisions, the newspapers, the radios, colds tools of communication, icy bawls of ready merciless announcers to feed himself/herself/themselves of my death as vultures. Of you all those that have loved you in life will probably speak, all those with which you have shared something, and they will talk to warm voice, moved by the feeling.
Do you say that between me and you I am to envy?
I say of no, because I will still be remembered for some time before falling in the forgetfulness and being replaced by somebody else, you will live forever in the heart of whom loves you.
Because let"s tell finally her all,; you are you, and I have been only a cazzo!
The author.
Claudio Felici was born in Rome in 1984. After the diploma it decides to abandon the studies to follow more from near his/her pa.s.sions: the writing, the sketch and the kickboxing, sport in which it is athlete professional. From 2009 alive and he/she resides in Modena.
In May 2012 it publishes his/her first novel," The Cemetery of the Angels", 0111edizioni.
Follow the author on Facebook.
end.