t twoninethree

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It will be that I don’t have many friends, actually, to be honest, my best friend is my brother, who is older than me, he is really strong, he taught me everything about life, such as to love horror movies, spiders, girls who take off their clothes in the magazines, because while they do it they know how to look at you and also they never cheat on you, not like the girls who are at school, all full of themselves and when I look at them it always seems that they are laughing at me. My analyst says I have a Freudian death drive, which is now rooted in me, I can’t do anything. I would like to tell everyone, I think it’s peculiar, a strange thing, and usually strange things are appreciated and even a lot, it’s just that I have no friends, I’d like to tell it to my brother, but recently he always sleeps, his analyst told him he is a narcoleptic. So, if I tend to self-destruction, he tends to fall asleep often, wherever he happens to be. Well, when you think about it, we are a beautiful family. My analyst told me I should keep a diary and write everything I want in it. So here it is, my first page, perhaps the only one, I would say, also cause I don’t like writing that much. Eventually, there will be another one page long diary in the world, and if it doesn’t exist, let’s pretend I made it up for myself. If there is one thing that I understood on my own, without the help of my brother, it is that you don’t actually need to look for horror stories in a movie. This morning at school I have seen a naked woman, in the corridor, and after a while I realized that behind me a little boy was being beaten, but I kept on looking at her, and dreaming. There is the puzzled face of my mother, of our mother, after our father asked her “what do you mean?”, in front of everyone, when she told him that she was late for her period, she was expecting me. Not to mention our neighbors’ monster, which is always thirsty and it likes to drink raindrops that settle in the flowers of our garden. My brother is sleeping now, I leave him this special diary on the nightstand, next to the bed, so he can read it one day when he will wake up.

– A tale by Giorgio Biferali