C.Ara Esther,
I don’t know why I am really rewriting you after six months here, but, since you often say that you would like to start Monday with less sad and more daring letters, I hope that this one can fall into the category of the latter.
After the breakup, the insults, the silence, even my Nino Sarratore is back: not to start over, but to tell me how much he too suffered, how bad he was, how angry he was, but how much he wanted us not to get lost, because we will always remain important, etc. (I don’t continue the list that many of us already know).
Until before this phone call, I was hoping a little deeply that mine was not a Nino Sarratore but that I had only had a very particular Beppe, who suffered a lot and had to be looked after (in the light of ‘Beppe for Beppe I keep myself My Beppe ‘, but I think Beppe leaves at the end only to go to work but then he really brings the bread home). The point is that even though Nino took his steps forward – he admitted mistakes, faults, personal limitations, the need to work on himself – did not do all of them (or at least not all mine, all those that for me are the basis of the ability to be in a deep relationship, and not just in love).
After the phone call, obviously the thought returned to him but in the end there remains a great feeling of ‘bah’, say what would it be like? Nothing special’. I am fine without Nino, also because I know that Nino would not be able, with me, to do me any good: I see it, I’m sorry for him, I hope he grows for his life but not mine.
Maybe some time ago I didn’t want to admit to myself that I, Nino, didn’t want to love him anymore, as if this took something away from the love I felt, the good times and the good sensations I experienced, the path I took before, during or after Nino. Now I look in the mirror and say: thanks Nino for showing me how strong I am, now please take off that I have to go to work and then at the weekend I go to sea.
A hug,
forever Yours,
S.
Ester Viola’s answer
Ester Viola
Dear S.,
We shouldn’t be here talking about it yet. It would have served a “so what do you want, I’m stupid?” after the message and a very quick forget about it half an hour later.
We are here to strologate instead. Bad. Bad.
I am very happy instead of reading a great classic from this column at this link.
There is a mistake though. It is very important to call him Peppe, not Beppe. The Milanese B strengthens Beppe, gives credibility. Our Giuseppe is the Neapolitan Peppe. Peppino, Peppiniello. There are a thousand, of Peppinielli all the same. Words are important, and some consonants as well. They reduce, measure people, ridicule – as in this case.
But let’s get to us and the your Peppe who comes back without knowing why (I miss him). Do you know what the complicated part of the whole thing is? That is to try to discuss people who return without specific intentions?
That we have all wanted with all our strength at least once this ending: they leave us, they regret bitterly, then they come back to us.
After the end of the stories, an algebraic method would be needed to distinguish when they are deliberately ignoring us from when the “I don’t care” is sincere. After that, there are three ways of dealing with Nino Sarratore (or Peppe) who is leaving. We had already seen them:
The Spartan
The kind of person who over the years has taken up the only good vice: bitterly resigning himself. He takes it badly, like everyone else. Then it takes him one, two, three months to get over it. She doesn’t call. She is nasty. The Spartan will fall in love again, after some time, he will trust even less than the previous time but the difference with respect to B and C is that whoever leaves him is dead, tamquam non esset, in fact it is an amazing sight when the exes return to them, they are killed by an indifference that is different from all the others, if it were a quality precise cold, it would be Siberia.
Yeoman Godot
Some solve problems by strongly believing that it will get better. Strokes of luck will rain. They are confident, but without too many initiatives.
The optimist is waiting for the turning point, which should manifest itself in the form of notification. It takes a powerful exercise of the imagination to think that everything will work out. And that’s fine, I have always seen fantasy rewarded more than patience. Believing it helps.
In fact the notification eventually arrives. It seems the best solution, until you realize the contraindication at your expense: you forgot your watch. The Optimist is under spell: as if he has two lives to live, one of which to spend collecting returns. The tragedy of waiting for Godot is not that he never comes, it is being forty without realizing it. Hope is the first form of youth waste.
Top Gun
“Waiting” is not his system. He insists. Who loves. He writes. Until on the other side they come to exhaustion. She thought about it and understood that the quick alternatives are few, two: to be hated or to be taken back by force. Unlike the rest of the world, the idea of being deranged does not scare him.
Asking “why does he come back?” that’s part of the problem. Asking oneself is a bit of hope. What I mean, S., is that we need another piece of road. It’s the ninety-ninth gate, what are we going to do?
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