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Ever since I was a child, no one ever imposed expectations on me. No one ever felt the need to educate me, no one ever gave me direction… because everyone trusted my precocity. This, however, left me without a compass, in a state of total freedom.
The cradle ofThe Void.
No one expected anything from me… but at the same time, no one listened to me. I had nothing to rebel against, so I simply followed myself.
Ever since I was little, I have wandered through the world asking myself: “Is itHim?” And when I say little, I mean truly little—from elementary school. But who was thisHimI was searching for everywhere? AHimwho never arrived, or who never showed himself.
Perhaps this mysterious, continuous, and silent search led me to practice something peculiar from a young age.
Let’s start from elementary school, with ******* *******. As a child, I was obsessed with him, to the point of convincing myself that he was sending me signs. I even had a notebook where I tracked every one of them.
I lost that notebook, but in 2012, when I was 13, it transformed into an album of printed sheets, addressed to another subject: *** ***********. He struck me, and I began to look for signs everywhere, seeking confirmation of what I was feeling.
Shortly before this interest began, my cousin died—a cousin I didn’t even talk to, much older than me. I started dreaming of him and felt protected, to the point that I could sense the exact moment the connection was severed.
I remember one episode: I was sitting in the car, half-asleep, when I saw him in the window reflection wearing a light blue striped shirt and jeans. He seemed to be trying to deliver a message I can no longer remember. And there’s more: he was dressed like that even on the day of his funeral… I was told this later, as I hadn’t gone and couldn’t have known.
Another memory: at that time, I felt someone grab my side, and my cat turned abruptly toward that spot, as if it had seen something I couldn’t perceive.
In my last year of middle school, it was time to choose a high school, and I wanted to attend a graphic design school. My favorite teacher got angry, insisting that I was “wasted” there. She wanted me to choose a classical or scientific high school… but I wasn’t interested.
I found a middle ground: the art high school. And that is where I met an important person: my former best friend, whom we’ll call Laura.
She was a presence I found everywhere, but who could never truly connect with me. To understand the dynamic: she lived across from my house, we attended catechism and middle school together… yet we never spoke a word, even though we both recognized a mutual bond. We only acknowledged it to each other later.
On the first day of art high school, I discovered, to my great surprise, that they had changed my school location without telling me. They asked me to choose a section, and I chose the one where a friend from middle school was.
When I entered that classroom, I found Laura.
Some time later, she told me: “I was waiting for you that day; I knew you would arrive.”
Quite unsettling, in hindsight.
We became inseparable. Too inseparable. In a sick way.
In middle school, I had always imagined that in high school something would change, that I would meet thatHim… but thatHimnever arrived. The real frustration wasn’t so much theHim, but the fact that nothing interesting ever happened in my life. While others lived, my life produced nothing.
After my first year of art high school, I wasn’t satisfied, so I switched to the graphic design school I had originally wanted.
I felt very comfortable in the new school. The environment was serene and quiet… but it was such a small school that, after a few years, they even discontinued my course. It was attended by a handful of people.
The flatness of boredom made manifest.
Nothing ever happened.
Nothing.
Nothing.
I didn’t feel invisible in the obvious sense of the word. In fact, I felt far too visible. My true invisibility lay in my voice: no one could truly listen to me, understand me, or even get close to me. It is a feeling hard to describe without making it sound trivial, and the little that did happen in my life felt irrelevant.
Perhaps you might think that I was desperately searching for a boy… but that would be a lack of style on your part.
At school, there was a boy obsessed with me, whom I considered the most handsome in the school: he wrote me poems, songs… but when he spoke to me, it felt like he was speaking to someone else. He didn’t really see me.
I have always been very selective. If I had been desperate, I would have gone with the first person I found.
I already had the vision in mind, but I didn’t know who or what exactly. I was searching for something I couldn’t name. Because perhaps it wasn’t someone.
It was a frequency.
