a few weeks ago the news of suicide are continuing at a chain, like shots fired into a terrifying war against anything, against the emptiness of a life, heavy, suffocating.
For this war is not starting date to be written on the history books have long been fought in the trenches of our society, and some say that there is not even the end.
Or who is hoping for an armistice, with the silence of the newspapers, and information services.
Meanwhile at the front line up allies "young people who refuse life because they have no absolutes
" poor do not have values, "the other side is an existential problem" is the eternal adolescent "young rich who have carried out too .. .. then arrives Pilate, "and the society that kills them."
And I? I burn with rage, I would do anything for them, for you my friend. Perhaps
my arms will seem poor, old, ineffective, but it is what I have in hand, young man like you: a pen, a prayer: God, you who are loving life, you hope that you are eternal life and an instant accure to our lives and hope to our hope.
My friend, my life is a gift, and if it is for me, which are different from you, even your life is a gift. I confess that if there was no God who cries with me his own life, with his own death with his own love, now I might have hips on the pages of a newspaper.
Because I say? Why find out, and live it gave me the strength, the courage not to throw away. It
life is no longer afraid of death: better to die than live as a dog beaten; Tell the Doctor and get back to you that you are sick, or the psychologist and tell you you're out of the ordinary, or you and your father accused of being an ungrateful son. None of this, you're just more sensitive than others, and mediocrity, emptiness, the meaninglessness of this life do not accept them, do not be coward, do not throw away, fight like me, live, love, hope, pray , laugh, cry e. ......................... try to sing.
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