I’m in one of those self service places full of washing machines, I really need clean clothes. I’m in Florence and I don’t really know why. I ask myself why we cry, why we want to cry? I was supposed to leave yesterday but something was telling me it wasn’t a good time. I’ve been down for the last week without really knowing the reason. anyway, yesterday. I couldn’t get a train in the afternoon so I postponed my departure for the evening, meanwhile I went for a walk with my sister and a friend. I couldn’t really talk, and everything was pissing me off. I had this weight pushing on my head and the muscles of my face were very tense. It’s gravity and unexplained anger, that’s what happens to me when it’s not going well. we went to my friend’s boyfriend apartment, I sat on the sofa, played video games, and it was kind of fun. then I sent a text to Ana saying: I think I’m clinically depressed. she called me back right away and from her voice I could tell she was high, she can’t sleep at night and needs something to keep her active during the day. she says the phase I’m going through is normal. I could feel the tears in the back of my eyes ready to burst. why we cry. why do I need to cry. she told me I shouldn’t give up and I was like, give up what? it’s just emptiness, I’m just a bored person. I hang up and look out the window. what I see is a narrow tunnel with clothes hanging that leads to a very small courtyard. there’s a pink plastic plate full of water in the end and it’s raining inside it, everything is wet. I stare for a couple of minutes and I wish I could take a photograph of this moment. I focus on this image of myself, out the window, as if I’d jumped out of my body and what I’m staring at is actually me. I feel like I’m floating, but not in a good way. I go back inside, get my stuff and give it another try at the train station, but no way. I’m just not meant to leave this city. I stay. I still don’t know why I’m trying so hard to cry. at the station, I get a refund for my ticket and decide right away to spend it all in alcohol. then I think about something I told my sister a few days ago. we were having a pint and out of nowhere I ask her why all our relationships suck and we can’t really get close to people and are always afraid of getting hurt and always find excuses to avoid taking up are lives. we always need breaks, I said, do you realize we are damaged because of what we’ve been through when we grew up? She went blank for a second and said she never thought about it. she seemed a little surprised. that’s the difference between us, I said, I wish I wasn’t so analytic. I go back to myself at the station, not knowing what to do. I realize that there’s nothing to do. and I don’t know why we cry. I start walking in the rain and I don’t mind getting wet. by the time I get to the first bar, I’m soaked. for a while, I’m just not gonna make any decision.
why we cry