Hi Ennis, how you doin’?
I know you didn’t expect this e-mail from me, especially after the way we say goodbye before I left; but I need to tell somebody what I’m feeling, and you are the only one who I can trust. Maybe the words are meant to be, but I give more attention to the feelings, as I’m sure you still remember. I’d could talk with my mum, you’re right, but I prefer she doesn’t know the truth, ‘cause she already has a lot of things to be worried about, my sister and all the rest.
If I know you as well as I think, right now you’ll be against the door of your room reading a copy of this e-mail you’ve printed as it had arrived, trembling with anger and wishing I was there to punch my face: but there’s a ocean, and few thousands miles between me and you, so maybe the door will be the one to be hit. You’re right to be mad with me, but I’m just asking you to go on reading, then it won’t matter if you don’t answer.
Life here is not exciting as I supposed back in summer. I’ve just found out Europe doesn’t fit me well (or maybe it’s just Italy, I don’t know), people are too nervous, they cry out to each other for nothing, and overall there’s a lot of traffic everywhere; there are no parks where I live, and tough my parents say I’m lucky to live at the very center of Rome, I like more our life back in Jersey. The weather is strange too. We’re toward the end of November, and except for the very first week when it rained almost every single day (and the traffic went even bad, if it’s possible) the temperature is still in the middle 60 through the day. I couldn’t believe it would arrive a day when I’d said these words, but I miss the New England fall, with all the falling leaves on the ground and the cold arriving every day a bit more. Here the days are all the same, it seems like Italians don’t have any holiday during the year, except maybe for Christmas: they don’t celebrate Halloween, or Thanksgiving, so the only point to score for them is December 25th. What a bad thing! They go back from the summer holidays, and have nothing to looking forward to. That’s why they all complain ‘bout everything, I suppose.
Talking about Thanksgiving, what a sad thing has been to wake up this morning and have to go to college! So strange! I couldn’t almost believe it… And nobody was yelling his wishes to somebody else on the bus or down the street, nobody was wearing those strange hats to advertise a restaurant or a special shopping chance, nobody was waiting in a hurry inside a butcher’s to get his turkey ready… Seeing all these little things not happen has made me feel blue and got homesick, and not for the first time in a few days I wished I could come back home, but I’m afraid it won’t happen soon, unfortunately. I’m sure if I’d talk to my parents they’ll say yes, of course, but I know it would mean a kind of retreat, and I’m not ready for that, not yet.
Things in college aren’t going better. On this second period, I’ve to attend three different classes, but I like just the one about a ‘900 Italian poet named Eugenio Montale, who won the Nobel prize back in the ‘70s. The other class I’m following is about a strange thing called “Esthetic Of Cinema” (I don’t know if the name is right, as much as I’d got from the lessons we Americans don’t get along well with this practice and don’t talk about it, so I’ve just translated it from Italian), our professor is strange himself as well, I’m having a lot of trouble keeping up with lessons, also because he often makes references to the Italian political situation that I don’t understand at all, it seems to me like he wants to lead a sort of revolution, but just speaking… Anyway, he often says the American schools don’t teach anything of this stuff, and he usually gets mad at this point, I don’t know why, but as a matter of fact he starts punching on the table (and near the microphone, so you can easily imagine what a hell of a noise he makes everytime). Then he calms down a bit and stares at nothing for a few minutes, before starting again to talk from three or four sentences before where he had stopped. He makes me feel quite stupid and childish, and everyday as I leave the class I have to keep telling myself I’m not that idiot at all, I have just a different point of view (even if I don’t know if I’m right). Few days ago I started studying, since I had to make up the lessons I’ve missed when I was at home, and I panicked a bit, ‘cause there are some things very hard to understand by someone who isn’t so in that kind of theoretical stuff. I heard the others guys having the same problem, tough I don’t ask ‘em for nothing: they don’t like me at all, and they always look at me like I was an alien or something. But I don’t care after all, I’ve learned to overcome this kind of things.
Now I’m back to my room and getting ready for dinner (it’s already dark over here), I’ve cooked the turkey with olio and lime and it’s almost done, so in a few minutes I’m gonna set the table (the only table in my room) with a paper dish, the same paper napkin and the same paper fork and I’m gonna eat my Thanksgiving turkey, faking to be with my family and… yes, and with you. We were used to, don’t we? I miss you, Ennis, I fucking miss you… It wasn’t… This wasn’t supposed to end up this way, goddamn! … I… What the hell, I can’t go on with a life like this! I can’t go on fooling myself around, pretending I’m okay, pretending I don’t care! Do… do you remember that old song we used to sing when we were kids? It was something like this: “No one ever love you the way I do… And as the years go by, our friendship will never die, you’re gonna see it’s our destiny, you’ve got a friend in me”…
I… I’ve been such an idiot, God knows how I’ve been, but I’m asking you… I’m begging you… Please, please, forgive me! I, I can’t stand anymore not hearing your voice calling me, talking to me… Please, Ennis, please…
I know you didn’t expect this e-mail from me, especially after the way we say goodbye before I left; but I need to tell somebody what I’m feeling, and you are the only one who I can trust. Maybe the words are meant to be, but I give more attention to the feelings, as I’m sure you still remember. I’d could talk with my mum, you’re right, but I prefer she doesn’t know the truth, ‘cause she already has a lot of things to be worried about, my sister and all the rest.
If I know you as well as I think, right now you’ll be against the door of your room reading a copy of this e-mail you’ve printed as it had arrived, trembling with anger and wishing I was there to punch my face: but there’s a ocean, and few thousands miles between me and you, so maybe the door will be the one to be hit. You’re right to be mad with me, but I’m just asking you to go on reading, then it won’t matter if you don’t answer.
Life here is not exciting as I supposed back in summer. I’ve just found out Europe doesn’t fit me well (or maybe it’s just Italy, I don’t know), people are too nervous, they cry out to each other for nothing, and overall there’s a lot of traffic everywhere; there are no parks where I live, and tough my parents say I’m lucky to live at the very center of Rome, I like more our life back in Jersey. The weather is strange too. We’re toward the end of November, and except for the very first week when it rained almost every single day (and the traffic went even bad, if it’s possible) the temperature is still in the middle 60 through the day. I couldn’t believe it would arrive a day when I’d said these words, but I miss the New England fall, with all the falling leaves on the ground and the cold arriving every day a bit more. Here the days are all the same, it seems like Italians don’t have any holiday during the year, except maybe for Christmas: they don’t celebrate Halloween, or Thanksgiving, so the only point to score for them is December 25th. What a bad thing! They go back from the summer holidays, and have nothing to looking forward to. That’s why they all complain ‘bout everything, I suppose.
Talking about Thanksgiving, what a sad thing has been to wake up this morning and have to go to college! So strange! I couldn’t almost believe it… And nobody was yelling his wishes to somebody else on the bus or down the street, nobody was wearing those strange hats to advertise a restaurant or a special shopping chance, nobody was waiting in a hurry inside a butcher’s to get his turkey ready… Seeing all these little things not happen has made me feel blue and got homesick, and not for the first time in a few days I wished I could come back home, but I’m afraid it won’t happen soon, unfortunately. I’m sure if I’d talk to my parents they’ll say yes, of course, but I know it would mean a kind of retreat, and I’m not ready for that, not yet.
Things in college aren’t going better. On this second period, I’ve to attend three different classes, but I like just the one about a ‘900 Italian poet named Eugenio Montale, who won the Nobel prize back in the ‘70s. The other class I’m following is about a strange thing called “Esthetic Of Cinema” (I don’t know if the name is right, as much as I’d got from the lessons we Americans don’t get along well with this practice and don’t talk about it, so I’ve just translated it from Italian), our professor is strange himself as well, I’m having a lot of trouble keeping up with lessons, also because he often makes references to the Italian political situation that I don’t understand at all, it seems to me like he wants to lead a sort of revolution, but just speaking… Anyway, he often says the American schools don’t teach anything of this stuff, and he usually gets mad at this point, I don’t know why, but as a matter of fact he starts punching on the table (and near the microphone, so you can easily imagine what a hell of a noise he makes everytime). Then he calms down a bit and stares at nothing for a few minutes, before starting again to talk from three or four sentences before where he had stopped. He makes me feel quite stupid and childish, and everyday as I leave the class I have to keep telling myself I’m not that idiot at all, I have just a different point of view (even if I don’t know if I’m right). Few days ago I started studying, since I had to make up the lessons I’ve missed when I was at home, and I panicked a bit, ‘cause there are some things very hard to understand by someone who isn’t so in that kind of theoretical stuff. I heard the others guys having the same problem, tough I don’t ask ‘em for nothing: they don’t like me at all, and they always look at me like I was an alien or something. But I don’t care after all, I’ve learned to overcome this kind of things.
Now I’m back to my room and getting ready for dinner (it’s already dark over here), I’ve cooked the turkey with olio and lime and it’s almost done, so in a few minutes I’m gonna set the table (the only table in my room) with a paper dish, the same paper napkin and the same paper fork and I’m gonna eat my Thanksgiving turkey, faking to be with my family and… yes, and with you. We were used to, don’t we? I miss you, Ennis, I fucking miss you… It wasn’t… This wasn’t supposed to end up this way, goddamn! … I… What the hell, I can’t go on with a life like this! I can’t go on fooling myself around, pretending I’m okay, pretending I don’t care! Do… do you remember that old song we used to sing when we were kids? It was something like this: “No one ever love you the way I do… And as the years go by, our friendship will never die, you’re gonna see it’s our destiny, you’ve got a friend in me”…
I… I’ve been such an idiot, God knows how I’ve been, but I’m asking you… I’m begging you… Please, please, forgive me! I, I can’t stand anymore not hearing your voice calling me, talking to me… Please, Ennis, please…
Andrew
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