The Ashtray

I should go to the psychologist, but the thought of someone knowing me better than I do torments me. I am writing for one reason only - I believe - and today it is time to try again.

I want to be a person, one who I am not and I do not see the path to follow to be one. Have you ever met that person that you don't realize what he did until after several years, where you see that he started to change your life? Who gave you your first chance?

God, it's so hard! It goes against my whole being, against all logic and any of the laws of the lazy. The self-centered ones. From the idiots. But I want to be that, yes, anonymous. I want to be nobody.

I don't see it as simple, I've been thinking about it for a while. I don't think it's a logical way; I would have found it by now, it can only be magic. And like all magic, it only happens in an instant. You have to be prepared for the moment because the hardest thing is to recognize it, and I've only been practicing the trick for a short time, but at least I've started. Funny, I never thought it was addictive.

To recognize it, I tried to remember my own magicians. Bastards, you did so well, the nostalgia alone magnifies you. The trick was perfect.

Fear, I've done it again, I've finished the page again and I'm still not finished. I wish I smoked to finish the picture with an ashtray, but nothing changes so far. I keep looking, I still don't write what I owe and I still need a psychologist.