LOCUS COEURULEUS

F.

Hi. (exhales)                                                                                                                                          It’s not the first time I’m trying to do this…(inhales twice)                                                            I wanted to write you,  then I thought a video would be a better solution. (exhales)         I’m starting to think that words have no shades, no tones. (inhales)

Why doesn’t he look at the insight camera? Everywhere but not there, fuck!               Doesn’t he know? It would be more powerful if  he just look straight at that fucking green light, so the viewers will have the impression he’s actually staring at them,  talking directly to them. Now it seems he’s just looking at himself.                                                                    Hey loser, stop doing that! Can you please do it later, once you’ve finished. C’mon, make them cry! Just let it go, don’t worry if it’s pathetic. It is, but that’s what we’re craving for. People will be compassionate. You’re hurt, shocked, desperate, suicidal. The truth can be so pathetic and you must allow yourself to suffer and share it without filters.

It’s Sunday morning and I’m still here…I slept four hours, as usual.                                    It’s 7.10, but I’m already exhausted…stunned and overwhelmed by the echo of a story that doesn’t make any sense. I fear mornings more than nightmares because…                     ( exhales / first clear attempt to keep himself from crying).

Great! Push! Push! Yes, let it go…Here it is…what a wonderful cliché!

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