Radio Nostalgia EP 03

Today on Radio Nostalgia: "Reckoner" by Radiohead. “Quanti anni hai mo, 22? Eh foss a maronna...”

25 - a turning point, yet I still feel like I'm fifteen, with the constant feeling of messing up everything I do. I've spent the last few years of my life listening to myself; it was the only thing to do. I couldn't force you to change, I couldn’t force myself to change – MATCH POINT! And I've really fallen lower than I thought. But today, I only have some scars left. I got out with a few, superficial wounds (apparently?). I struggled. Every night before sleeping, I just wanted to smile, but I kept seeing you in everything, and I couldn't. If I closed my eyes, I had nightmares; if I opened them, I was afraid of living them over and over again. But it wasn't your fault, nor mine. You were always there; I wanted to win for you, even though I couldn't see you anymore. They drained you, but I had to move on; I owed it to you. I had to do it for us. You sublimated your suffering, but I became water for you, watching your back. I don't have clear memories, but I felt them - all the tears, between asylum and abandonment. You weren't there, but I felt you in my bones. Today, I sense you; now I can listen to you. How many years has it been since we talked? I'm glad you're with me again. There's something sweet in a tragic epilogue, the comic charm of turning our lives into a three-act drama. We can assign the role of scapegoat to anyone we want, but the truth is, it's beautiful to suffer. The bittersweet torment of inflicting pain on yourself and reveling in it until complete healing, then starting over, incessantly... Suffering opens doors of the mind that you can't open when you're bound. You have to walk between the carriages and accept that you're on a continuously moving train. Stationmasters must feel lonely. But I understood you, you know. In the end... why? You got tired of feeling like this; you're right. Home is comfortable, seagulls sing continuously, spring is coming. You want to live, you want to feel. Are you ready to open your eyes again? Where we'll be reborn and if it's worth it, we'll find out. We've gathered ourselves. For every ending, there's always a beginning, and with it, the percentage chance of ending up with broken bones. But I've always loved your recklessness, the smiles you had even when they hit you. Diving headfirst isn't always a bad idea. It's incredible how happiness nests in strange corners, the crumbs. Today, my lovely Ele, I really listen to you and look at you with admiration. Not because anything has changed, but simply because the earth always does the same turn. Here's one thing I've always loved about you: for you, the earth has always spun a thousand times, and each spin has always been different from the last. You taught me to take things as they are and to live life despite everything.

Photography Johnny Dufort, styling Celestine Cooney

I don't have any more "I wish" in my pocket. It was yesterday, and suddenly my eighteen years had passed. How much our lives have changed in a year, huh? Sometimes a little love is all it takes. It's hard to surround yourself with the right people, to find someone who waters you patiently every day; it takes care - for everything (thank you). Give yourself time, and tomorrow - even with some regrets, doesn't matter – you’ll wake up happy. But you have to want it, though, you have to want it so much. And you have to sit down and reckon with yourself, first. You have to listen to yourself, love yourself, and welcome yourself. Just stop pushing away the suffering because it helps you. It really does. I've taken some steps forward, and despite this, I'm just at the beginning. Tell yourself the truth, always. I've reached where I wanted to, I've grown up. And I take my laughter, the ones that show my teeth because everything else (all that is circumstantial) bores me. I love sunbathing, picking lemons from the trees, smiling at my dog, hugging my friends. Suddenly I’ll be eighty, I'll have wrinkles, and I never thought I'd say it, but I can't wait to grow old with myself. Happy birthday, Ele, may you never be afraid to delve into yourself again.