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[fedsssssss-s]

TW “the moment it clicked: asking for help”

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— Franz Kafka, Letters to Felice

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you bite my soul

and savor it

with your heart between your teeth

you still have pieces of her stuck inside

don't you?

it can be seen when you smile, that slice of life you still haven’t swallowed.

little matter anyway I no longer have a soul to suffer.

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you still want your mom’s love, but it doesn’t feel like it used to. you still crave your mom, but sometimes you mean your mom 10 years ago.

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When I was little I had a bed with a bridge wardrobe, so the pieces of wall it was placed next to were covered with the wood of the furniture; the corner between the two panels had a slight defect: they didn't touch completely, probably one was crooked, so a very small crack was created, almost a hole, just above my head.

I was terrified of the dark, it sent me into total panic, I couldn't breathe and I cried for hours from fear.

When this happened, I put my mouth or nose on the crack and felt cold; every now and then I peeked into it and saw clearer but confused, due to the smallness of the hole.

Over time I understood that it was only the air between the real wall and the wooden one, and that the clear was nothing but the white wall that reflected the night light.

But at that moment for me it was my little escape from terror: I was convinced that the crack was also in the wall, so as to allow me to feel the night breeze outside and to see the glimmer of the street lamp in the condominium parking lot.

Today I'm thinking about it and I would like a portable slot to always have with me whenever I'm terrified of something, a small anchor that makes me momentarily forget everything and allows me to fall asleep, even if it's not real, hold at least hope in my hands what I felt in believing it so.

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