"Strappare lungo i bordi" è una serie TV di Zerocalcare, un fumettista italiano che da sempre stimo per quanto riesce a farmi ridere e allo stesso tempo per la profondità e acume con cui racconta una vita quotidiana. Questa serie TV in particolare mi ha fatto sentire a casa: parlava di quella frammentazione che stavo vivendo. 
Forse è il diventare grandi, forse è stato il Covid, forse iniziare a lavorare, cambiare casa, cercare di costruire un futuro senza riuscire a intravvederlo... Inizi a non riconoscerti: a perdere i treni e non correre più per prenderli; ad avere sempre una chat WhatsApp a cui non hai risposto; a non sapere con chi uscire, perché gli amici a un certo punto si trasferiscono e prendono le loro strade; a vedere che i luoghi a cui hai dato anni della tua vita non si ricordano di te. 
Spezzettata, dispersa: in questi luoghi che non sento più appartenermi, in queste presenze che diventano assenze, in certe abitudini che non riesco più a riconoscere.
Ho iniziato a capire che i miei bordi stavano cambiando, che le cose, le circostanze, mi stavano dando dei nuovi confini strappandomi di qua e di là.
Confini che prima non mi ero mai neanche resa conto di avere.
"Do not tear along the edges" is a TV serie by Zerocalcare, an Italian cartoonist whom I have always respected for how much he can make me laugh and at the same time for the depth and acumen with which he narrates an everyday life. This TV series in particular made me feel at home: it spoke of that fragmentation I was experiencing. 
Maybe it's growing up, maybe it was Covid, maybe starting to work, moving house, trying to build a future without being able to catch a glimpse of it.... You start not recognizing yourself: missing trains and no longer running to catch them; always having a WhatsApp chat you haven't responded to; not knowing who to hang out with, because friends at some point move away and go their own ways; seeing that the places you gave years of your life to don't remember you. 
Broken up, scattered: in these places that I no longer feel belong to me, in these presences that become absences, in certain habits that I can no longer recognize. 
I began to realize that my edges were changing, that things, circumstances, were giving me new boundaries tearing me this way and that.
Boundaries that I had never even realized I had before.
Non strappare lungo i bordi is a prayer, a plea, a need: to belong and to find one's place in things without tearing. Non strappare lungo i bordi asks to pause, to interrupt this poietic process of definition that hurts so much.
To surrender, to melt, to feel at home. To feel found, reassembled, whole.
I am me and no one else
I have the story that I have
I am made this way and not any other way

My face
is that one

My body is that one
it has definite boundaries, a beginning and an end

A loose cannon in this universe, a mine that later explodes
It is lost and dispersed, And no one will know where it is

I have the responsibility of being human
I am neither plant nor animal nor river nor mountain

My consciousness is there
and it is in this body

Sometimes it feels like
an overwhelming responsibility

not having been born a tree to live a life of listening and growth
and instead finding myself human: continuous motion that remains at the same point

I cover myself with moss and apathy,
because I don't own me, I don't belong to me

I would like to vanish
 into things, to be water of the sea, tree in the wind,
to begin and end myself in belonging with the world

to suspend myself, loose those boundaries that make me me
because it seems too difficult to be defined,
to have a beginning and an end, to be what I am 

Rejoining myself
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