Ogni juorno chiove forte

You can have a fiancée.

A twin who shares your face like a mirror that learned how to breathe.

A dog that waits at the door like you’re the only gravity it knows.

And still feel it.

That quiet click in the chest.

The realization that alone doesn’t mean empty room.

It means unseen.

They tell you, be yourself.

Soft voices. Posters. Coffee mugs.

But if you don’t smile on command,

if your face rests in its natural weather,

suddenly you’re “off.”

“Intense.”

“Something wrong with him.”

So you try it.

You be yourself.

And the room shifts.

Not dramatic.

Just subtle.

Chairs angle away.

Conversations shorten.

People prefer the edited version of you

the one with brighter lighting.

You’re living proof it works.

You can be yourself.

You just have to survive the consequences.

And no

it’s not awkward.

It’s honest.

There’s a difference.

Alone isn’t the absence of love.

It’s the absence of translation.

And some of us were born speaking a language

that doesn’t come with the fuckin’ subtitles.

vita sporca per sempre