I had a book, a brown little book that I carried everywhere. A book that traced every road I’ve taken, every single feeling I had and all the thoughts that came to my mind since I remember. A book that struggled with me all my journey long, it bore with me all the uphills and witnessed all the ups and downs… My dark brown little book was of a value to me that I thought I could never give away that easy.

I perceived a path to walk; I had my dream right in a handful and somewhere between the pages of my brown little book. I finally started walking to seize it. So I chose the easiest way to get there and walked fast because I believed that my path must come to an end. Such a beautiful path! I had it again, I’ve come to it, I’ve seen it, above all I lived some of it but it was too good to be true.

Unfortunately, and as you taught me, when something is too good, it becomes bitter. But why was it bitter since it was the only moment I’ve been striving to feel? Why did my dream fail me in time I devoted and sacrificed everything for its sake? And why are there too many blank pages in my brown little book?

The end of my road turned to be a dilemma of questions. And the inner peace I had has now faded away. All the strength I pretended I had is revealed into weakness and I found myself so lonely: my dream has torn me! So I had to torn out every single page in my brown little book because they become meaningless and they become my badge of selfishness, thus, of failure.

However, the fear of failure can sometimes open up our eyes on certain truths: that at the end of every road there lies always new beginnings and we can always fix up our mistakes. After all, I deserve a new beginning because it was never my attention to give up the people I appreciate to live a dream which remains incomplete without their support and friendship. But it was too late for me to realize that I was wrong to trace a path without them, because every pilot needs copilots and a captain