Growing up

Twelve days have passed, I feel strangely liberated. I look back at my life and wonder how I could fall for the lies, how I could be the good girl without feeling as if I just acted. I think I can see more clearly than ever before, but it might also be the silent rage that blocks me from grasping everything else. I'm trying to gather my thoughts and understand what has really changed, apart from the obvious.

This Sunday the whole family is supposed to go to the church. I'll pretend I'm sick, I don't have anything more to say to God after what he did to me. No excuses, no forgiving. I'm done with Him.


Waking up

I said that my life ended, but of course that's not true. We all continue to live on even after our loved ones are gone, only in another way. For me it's like I've woken up from a bad dream, but I can't shake the memory and feeling of it. I'm stuck in this new reality where everything I knew before no longer applies. So many thoughts are  going through my head, and I'm reevaluating old truths for better or for worse. The only thing I know for sure now is that I can't go back to many of the lies that were part of me for so long. And it hurts, because those lies were told to me by my family.


War is over

My life as I knew it ended at 04:19 AM along with his, but please, don't dispear. I don't have any more tears left and I hope I will never have to cry like this ever again. Don't feel sorry for me and don't feel bad, the world is still turning and the sun will rise and set just like it did yesterday. I'm not sad anymore, I'm angry because I've been cheated and betrayed by the people who say they love me. I was told that everything would be alright as long as I kept my faith and believed, but it turned out to be nothing more than a filthy lie. I'm angry and I know who I blame.

I love you all, and I want you to be happy, life is just too short for sadness and grief. This is the only way I can move on.

Thank you.



It's the third world war and I'm in the middle of the new Blitzen. Bullets and bombs keep flying over the Atlantic, every time the phone rings I know it's time to take cover and hope for the best, or the least horrible.

The latest news from Italy is that Lorenzo is in a coma and apparently doesn't get better. I feel so powerless, and all I can do is listen to the news, miles and miles away from him. I wish I could do something, anything, but even if I was there next to his bed he wouldn't hear me. Father keeps telling me to pray, but I can see the slight hesitation in his dark green eyes.

I'm trying to talk to God, but if, as a child, I was certain that he always listened, now I can only hope as I lose one more hour of sleep.


A dream come true

I was born in Los Angeles but grew up in Siena in Italy. It's the most beautiful place in the world when the late evening sun rolls over those soft Tuscan hills, but my father had to move because of his business when I was 8. Until then, my cousin Lorenzo was my best friend in the whole world, and the first person I felt really close to. I've always been a reserved personality, but with him I felt so much more alive and free.

Since we moved I've been back several times, but it's never been quite the same. Whenever we go there I can't forget that we'll soon have to go home again, and in the end that's all I can think of. Los Angeles is my home, but my heart belongs in Italy, with the rest of my family and Lorenzo.

And now, of course, I've never been more anxious to go back and see him again.



Little by little we're getting a clearer picture of what happened outside of Milano. Bits and pieces of information fly over the Atlantic, but we're still not sure about Lorenzo's condition. We've learned that he was not alone in the car and that the driver had been drinking.

It worries me that the doctors can't give us any straight answers about Lorenzo, but my father says that everything will be alright as long as we pray and keep our hopes up. I guess he's right, he's always taught me to believe and to talk to God whenever I'm feeling lost.

After a few days of being awake 20 hours straight I really need to sleep. Take care of yourselves.


Wide awake

I was just awakened by a phone call, as was my whole family. At this time in the middle of the night it can't be good news and I was right. It seems my dear cousin Lorenzo has been in a car accident somewhere outside of Milano, and is now in the hospital. We don't know much about his condition, but I just wanted you to know that maybe I won't be blogging as much for a couple of days before we find out more.

I wish I could go back to sleep but now it's impossible. We are all just watching the telephone, hoping it will keep silent. In this situation I guess that no news is the best of news.

May the lord be kind to him, dearest cousin.


Don't quit your day job

Another slow morning by the swimming pool, mother rushes past me on her way to the guest house.

- Why won't you get a job, she sighs, looking at me with that sad face. Strong words for someone who's never worked a day in her life. She met my father after high school, fell in love and became his little trophy wife in designer clothes and Mikimoto pearls. Nothing wrong with that, so I say no, I'm going to marry rich, like you. A chill puts her off balance for a second, but she regains her poise and leaves without answering, her precious pride intact.

If I didn't know better I'd think she doesn't want me to be a part of the world that my father acts in, but then again, she knows as little about his business as I do. For all I know he hasn't offered me a job yet, and I'm not sure I'd take it if he did. Being lazy by the pool is just enough for me, right now anyway.


The saviour

The only sensible way of using the constantly shining LA sun is to spend lots of time by your swimming pool. Today, our chef Salvatore made me a dreamy Spaghetti alla Carbonara, with just the right amount of creaminess and a raw egg in the middle. He's a lifesaver, and he should be. My dad personaly handpicked him from a restaurant in Siena in Italy, and made him an offer he couldn't refuse,  so to say.

When my dad sees something he likes he just has to have it and wont back down before he does. I guess it's a strenght in this world, but sometimes it scares me. It's years since I first learned not to ask him what he does for a living, and I know my mother understands that too. It's just easier that way.