I’ll be back

I’ll be back.

I’ll be back to hugging friends and shaking people’s hands, with confidence.

I’ll be back to cooking my beloved vegetables with pasta and enjoying delicious dishes of carefully prepared food.

I’ll be back to running, listening to music and trying to do better than last time. I’ll also be back to running parkruns.

I’ll be back to being active in the streets, smiling, feeling useful.

I’ll be back to laughing with friends.

I’ll be back to work, and earning a salary that allows me to save some money.

I’ll be back to walking in nature, alone, even at night, with joy and confidence.

I’ll be back to the Fen, appreciating that view and feeling part of something.

I’ll be back to walking alone, calmly, on the street.

I’ll be back to driving my car, singing Red Hot Chili Peppers songs, even driving all the way to the sea.

I’ll be back to rejoicing, to feeling OK.

I’ll be back to making plans that aren’t just dreams… small things that are real, possible.

I’ll be back to dyeing my hair, taking nice showers, taking care of my body and my appearance.

I’ll be back to living fully.

And I’ll be back with a great awareness of how fantastic it is to be able to live a NORMAL LIFE, because even though I’ve been here before, I’d forgotten how painful, frustrating, and terrifying it was.

I’ll be back to living with presence.

I’ll be back to trusting myself.

I’ll be back to having adventures.

I’ll be back to hiking in the mountains with my Dad.

I’ll be back to taking buses, trains, and planes.

I’ll be back to getting angry and telling people to fuck off and then apologising—like normal people (it seemed so bad of my character, but now I see: I was just normal).

I’ll be back to singing at open mic nights, playing guitar in the fields, learning new songs.

I’ll be back to being a little vain and loving life without seeing it as something distant and forbidden.

I’ll be back to happily petting all the cats I meet, but especially Mammina, without worrying too much if she scratches me.

I’ll be back out there.

I’ll be back to riding my bike, swimming in the sea, walking with music in my ears, looking at the windows, the gardens, and the sky—not the sidewalk to check what I’m stepping on.

Will I really be back?

I don’t know, but I love the idea of ​​being able to do it, and I need to believe it’s possible.

SHINE