I was born in Sibiu, one of the most important cities in Transylvania. They say that vampires once
inhabited those areas, and it is true that there many sharp teeth have torn my flesh, as long as I can remember.
The first thing I see in my memories is my mother, lying on the ground, with her hands open and her white flesh flecked with a purplish red.
My father, leaning over her, with wild eyes and hands around her neck, many bottles abandoned by his side, like forgotten children on the street. Then I remember my void muffled cry, and the darkness ...
Now I see gray, the London sky pressing against my chest, a constant presence in my new life, my mother smiles at me, holds my hand, while I jump from pool to pool, and in the air the thin rain moistens my hair. My mother takes off her scarf and puts it on my head, she looks at me with eyes as bright as rain and says: - You were born wild, never forget it.
I have never seen her again, or at least I have no memory of it.
Many children, one story.
Of tears, of suffering but above all of emptiness.
A child pulls my hand, asks me who I am. I look at him with eyes full of tears: - I was born wild - I tell him. - I was born wild but I don’t know who I am anymore.
And the father appears.
He looks at me with new eyes, I don’t recognize him but he holds out his hand to me.
He takes me away from those prying eyes, from the little hands that greet me, and from that gray sky, as still as the eyes of my mother’s body wrapped in white sheets.
I’m home again, but that word no longer means anything, without the maternal smell and her light footsteps.
But I let myself be tamed.
I love my father, a new man, a better life but a worse fate.
A memory for each knife, which has streaked my white with red.
I have been violated, but not in the flesh.
A memory for each scar, but you can’t see the biggest one.
I want to be accepted, I’m afraid without you, oh mom, I’m afraid to forget.
Yet I was born wild, my soul is as indomitable as the lion because I was born in August and the sun itself was the first to kiss my forehead. I don’t understand why I’m part of the pack, because I’m afraid to look up, I don’t understand why I need to be like them.
My flame went out or got lost in the wind.
Or flame was not, you mother was blind. I was born a slave to this limited world, which was only able to clip my wings.
I want to assert myself, I want to show everyone how much I am worth.
The father tells me: - you have to study, you need a future, a hope.
But am I untamed? - Mom, I don’t know who I am anymore. Give me your hand and stay close to me. Kiss me from the sky, early in the morning tomorrow.
And I follow the father, his faded footsteps, a new destiny, away from you.
My name is double, like my heart.
Part for you, part for him.
I’m the best in the class, but it’s still not enough.
- Follow in the footsteps - the father yells at me impatiently, as he drags his feet on the sand.
The smoke from the joint enters my lungs, I cough and trudge for breath. The cool evening air gives me a little respite.
Because I am untamed and I want to show it: I smoke, dance and drink. I am wild but I am becoming like one of them.
Yet when they look at me they see something else. I can’t really understand who I am.
Then I win a contest, a new land, a new chance for redemption.
Me, who come from nothing, Me, who want to be worth. Me, who want respect, Me, who seek love.
I touch your soul without realizing it, but I already know that you will be part of my story.
And I study, yes I study, and I get to where I want to go. The last of the first. The first of the last.
A fierce path, I try and violate myself to get far, but I don’t recognize the place, I only see a desert.
I have a gold watch on my wrist, I have become important, my childhood is just a memory. Mother, I don’t know who you are, if you existed or not.
I have had many women, but I don’t know love.
I had a lot of money, but I only know the pain.
I learned to be accepted, to be someone in this society, I learned to be respected. But it’s no longer me, I don’t remember who I am, there is this man with golden blond hair and turquoise eyes like the sea who looks at me in the mirror, he tells me that he is someone and I am no one now. He tells me
it’s wrong to run naked in the woods. Being wild is just a childish pastime. Everyone needs to mature.
A broken car, an old cell phone, an Italian square, a great desire to love.
A nonsense list that describes you. Because you don’t need sense.
You were different: you didn’t try to tame me, you tried to make me free.
A second womb, a second life.
You listened to me.
You kissed me while you were pressed against the tree.
You ran against me on tiptoe that night.
Your feet always dirty with mud and fatigue. Your feet sum up your whole life.
You were able to love me.
You ran naked in the woods, you took my hand and I ran with you.
We made love and you looked like a Goddess, then I rocked you because you were a child.
And like my mother you left, on a sunny day, without saying a word.
I felt something tremble in my chest, but I didn’t know what it was. I have long tried to forget you, it took me so long to learn to hate you. I got lost and found myself: untamed, because you made me this burning flame, blowing patiently on the embers.
But the flame devours.
But time consumes.
And I started looking in the mirror again, the lightest blond, the duller turquoise.
- I was born wild, never forget it!
And, perhaps, thinking about it, this is not my story, when you merge into another soul, even if for a single second, you can no longer understand who you are and its past becomes your future, its uncertainties your only certainty, his eyes your memory. If I ever meet you again, I will be able to read you these words that are in the air, in the earth, and in all living beings. Because
I am untamed, and i am nothing without freedom.
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