Emotional maturity comes when we put rational deadlines for certain memories, being aware that they will always be there, but that access can be polite. For those who have OCD like me, controlling anxiety and the intensity of thoughts is not an option, but a matter of survival of sanity. The failure is circumstantial and inexorable, but the solidity of the structures becomes proportionally more rigid and lasting.
The off button exists when we realize that travel heals, mistakes teach and crying cleans. That's when we realize that no existence is so irreplaceable and that living alone, just surrounded by friends, is perhaps the best option. I found my off button when I started taking more care of my body and doing exactly what I want with it. My tattoos, my bald spot, my voice, my serious face. Perceiving the very contradictions that assemble the most imperfect being, but which is fully inhabited by itself.
The off button is allocated the moment we realize that we cannot be anyone's address. That life is, in fact, one and no one is worth the expense of so much energy. I turn off my emotional regrets and my victimism when I remember that my “Arianness” wants everything for yesterday and that just thinking about living without having lived is already a waste of time that cannot be recovered anymore. So now, instead of remembering the off button, I'm turning it off for now. Maybe come back. Perhaps, by mistake, I thought I was without ever having arrived. We follow.
