AtribecalledD
ATribeCalledRest
- Feb 27, 2025
- 4
Recently, about three weeks ago, I learned of the voluntary passing of a very dear friend of mine, Massimiliano, a young man with whom I had a special relationship, perhaps the most spontaneous and beautiful one I've ever had in these 31 years.
The news did not come as a sudden shock, as it did when my father passed away, but instead brought forth a long series of memories from my past. These memories are precious because they date back to a period in my life when I was emerging from a dark and sad time, characterized by depression (which I only discovered years later), loneliness, and suffering, both due to the bullying I endured at school and the toxic environment I had unknowingly adapted to in my family.
I met Massimiliano at a popular neighborhood hangout near my house when I was about 21 and he was 23. I was drawn to his introverted, nerdy look, very simple and in stark contrast to many of the boys around me who didn't interest me, obsessed with appearances, smokers, obsessed with designer clothes, and flaunting confidence.
He was busy playing on a laptop in the middle of a chattering crowd, and I started asking him several questions about what he was doing. I was surprised by his skills, in addition to his extremely simple appearance and slightly disheveled hair.
Over time, I began to bond with him, and life tried to bring us closer without our knowledge through a series of surprising coincidences, which I will give you some examples of.
In addition to the fact that we unknowingly lived in the same neighborhood just a few bus stops from my house, I discovered, by literally meeting him behind my house while throwing out the trash, that he was a guest of a friend of his, along with the mother of the latter, who still lives right next door to my house, at the same street number.
We had worked without each other's knowledge at the same company during our first work experience, and he, before leaving, was about to start an internship at another company, the second one I worked for in chronological order, also without our mutual knowledge.
We later discovered that we had the same referral counselor who worked in the same office within the same hospital trust, helping psychiatric patients (of whom we were also patients) find jobs.
I miss the walks in his company where we often confided in each other about our life experiences and kept each other company even for the most seemingly common things like going shopping. These actions have become unique moments in his company, very precious moments that will never come back again.
The places around my house have become places of memory, streets, trees that surrounded us, witnesses of our beautiful bond without our mutual knowledge, and in the beauty of the spontaneity of the best human relationships.
The worst began one afternoon several years ago, when, after an outing together, as we were walking towards the same house number, I instinctively took his hand, and he seemed to agree, even if confused. I felt moments of bliss in which I felt great and connected to him.
I immediately apologized to him, almost as if I were suddenly waking up from a trance-like state in which I was absorbed, feeling guilty for having taken his hand without asking him.
I felt embarrassed, and as soon as I arrived at my door, I greeted him full of guilt as he headed to his friend's house (he was his guest because he was looking for an apartment to move away from his family).
A short time later, we went out together again, walking. It was a summer afternoon at least seven years ago, and we ended up heading to the apartment that a relative of his had found for him. As soon as I entered his house, I noticed a suffocating smell and the shutters that darkened the entire living room.
After finishing a short tour of his house, I sat down at the table and discussed with him the possibility of changing jobs (he was exploited and his salary was continually postponed). Suddenly, he gradually entered a state of agitation and awkwardness and went to take a shower.
As soon as he finished and after waiting for him, he sat down in front of me and started to get too close to me with his chair. I repeatedly backed away and asked him why he was doing this: he replied, "Do you remember that time you held my hand?" I replied, "But what did you understand? Did you seriously think I was looking for intimacy?"
Apparently, he thought I was looking for sex from him, and from there, I tried to escape from his apartment. He didn't try to stop me at all and let me go. I started running outside and headed to a library not far from his house.
That evening, most likely to apologize, he came in the rain to the library of Villa Litta to look for me. I saw him and, in fear, hid behind a piano.
Afterwards, I went back home, and the last time I saw him was in the waiting room of the office of our respective counselor, Flavia. I got angry with him, still gripped by resentment for what had happened between us some time before.
I still feel terrible for having behaved like this with him, in addition to not contacting him anymore, avoiding a direct confrontation. I didn't have the maturity to deal with the situation long ago: at least I could have heard from him to know how he was.
I would never have imagined what he would have done next. I would have loved to help him if I had known what he was going through.
Now I miss him so much, besides feeling very bad for what he did. I feel like trash; I would give my life just to ask him for forgiveness for having left him and forgotten him. I would really like to hug him to make him understand that I love him so much. It will be difficult for me to find someone with whom I can have a relationship similar to his, and I only realized this after years of unsatisfactory relationships with different guys, very far from being spontaneous and sincere bonds like ours.
For some time now my life has been sliding into an abyss: I get up to go to work apparently normally and try to move on but the pain is deep in addition to the fact that both I and he have had suicidal thoughts and ideations accompanied by at least one attempt.
Massimiliano was not only a friend whom I didn't realize I loved so much, but when he was gone, it felt like a part of me was lost too. Some of the traits I saw in him were like looking at myself in a mirror.
I chose The Little Prince as my profile picture because it reminds me of the metaphor about our situation.
The Rose in The Little Prince is a symbolic character that represents love, fragility, and the complexity of human relationships.
It is the only plant that grows on the Little Prince's planet, and he cares for it with dedication, even though he finds it capricious and difficult to understand. The Rose embodies the idea that love requires commitment, patience, and understanding. Initially hurt by her proud and seemingly selfish attitude, the Little Prince decides to leave to explore other worlds—just as I left my neighborhood to find a better place, forgetting Massimiliano.
Later, thanks to his encounter with the Fox, he realizes that his Rose is special because it is his Rose—the one he has dedicated time and affection to. By the end of the book, the Little Prince decides to return to his planet because he understands that his Rose is unique and that their bond is irreplaceable. Through his journey and his meeting with the Fox, he learns that love is not about perfection but about care and commitment.
Even when he sees an entire garden full of roses similar to his, he understands that none of them can replace her. His Rose is special because it is the one he loved, protected, and devoted his time to.
The book concludes with the Little Prince leaving Earth to return to his planet. While his fate remains ambiguous, the message is clear: true love cannot be replaced—it must be cultivated.
The news did not come as a sudden shock, as it did when my father passed away, but instead brought forth a long series of memories from my past. These memories are precious because they date back to a period in my life when I was emerging from a dark and sad time, characterized by depression (which I only discovered years later), loneliness, and suffering, both due to the bullying I endured at school and the toxic environment I had unknowingly adapted to in my family.
I met Massimiliano at a popular neighborhood hangout near my house when I was about 21 and he was 23. I was drawn to his introverted, nerdy look, very simple and in stark contrast to many of the boys around me who didn't interest me, obsessed with appearances, smokers, obsessed with designer clothes, and flaunting confidence.
He was busy playing on a laptop in the middle of a chattering crowd, and I started asking him several questions about what he was doing. I was surprised by his skills, in addition to his extremely simple appearance and slightly disheveled hair.
Over time, I began to bond with him, and life tried to bring us closer without our knowledge through a series of surprising coincidences, which I will give you some examples of.
In addition to the fact that we unknowingly lived in the same neighborhood just a few bus stops from my house, I discovered, by literally meeting him behind my house while throwing out the trash, that he was a guest of a friend of his, along with the mother of the latter, who still lives right next door to my house, at the same street number.
We had worked without each other's knowledge at the same company during our first work experience, and he, before leaving, was about to start an internship at another company, the second one I worked for in chronological order, also without our mutual knowledge.
We later discovered that we had the same referral counselor who worked in the same office within the same hospital trust, helping psychiatric patients (of whom we were also patients) find jobs.
I miss the walks in his company where we often confided in each other about our life experiences and kept each other company even for the most seemingly common things like going shopping. These actions have become unique moments in his company, very precious moments that will never come back again.
The places around my house have become places of memory, streets, trees that surrounded us, witnesses of our beautiful bond without our mutual knowledge, and in the beauty of the spontaneity of the best human relationships.
The worst began one afternoon several years ago, when, after an outing together, as we were walking towards the same house number, I instinctively took his hand, and he seemed to agree, even if confused. I felt moments of bliss in which I felt great and connected to him.
I immediately apologized to him, almost as if I were suddenly waking up from a trance-like state in which I was absorbed, feeling guilty for having taken his hand without asking him.
I felt embarrassed, and as soon as I arrived at my door, I greeted him full of guilt as he headed to his friend's house (he was his guest because he was looking for an apartment to move away from his family).
A short time later, we went out together again, walking. It was a summer afternoon at least seven years ago, and we ended up heading to the apartment that a relative of his had found for him. As soon as I entered his house, I noticed a suffocating smell and the shutters that darkened the entire living room.
After finishing a short tour of his house, I sat down at the table and discussed with him the possibility of changing jobs (he was exploited and his salary was continually postponed). Suddenly, he gradually entered a state of agitation and awkwardness and went to take a shower.
As soon as he finished and after waiting for him, he sat down in front of me and started to get too close to me with his chair. I repeatedly backed away and asked him why he was doing this: he replied, "Do you remember that time you held my hand?" I replied, "But what did you understand? Did you seriously think I was looking for intimacy?"
Apparently, he thought I was looking for sex from him, and from there, I tried to escape from his apartment. He didn't try to stop me at all and let me go. I started running outside and headed to a library not far from his house.
That evening, most likely to apologize, he came in the rain to the library of Villa Litta to look for me. I saw him and, in fear, hid behind a piano.
Afterwards, I went back home, and the last time I saw him was in the waiting room of the office of our respective counselor, Flavia. I got angry with him, still gripped by resentment for what had happened between us some time before.
I still feel terrible for having behaved like this with him, in addition to not contacting him anymore, avoiding a direct confrontation. I didn't have the maturity to deal with the situation long ago: at least I could have heard from him to know how he was.
I would never have imagined what he would have done next. I would have loved to help him if I had known what he was going through.
Now I miss him so much, besides feeling very bad for what he did. I feel like trash; I would give my life just to ask him for forgiveness for having left him and forgotten him. I would really like to hug him to make him understand that I love him so much. It will be difficult for me to find someone with whom I can have a relationship similar to his, and I only realized this after years of unsatisfactory relationships with different guys, very far from being spontaneous and sincere bonds like ours.
For some time now my life has been sliding into an abyss: I get up to go to work apparently normally and try to move on but the pain is deep in addition to the fact that both I and he have had suicidal thoughts and ideations accompanied by at least one attempt.
Massimiliano was not only a friend whom I didn't realize I loved so much, but when he was gone, it felt like a part of me was lost too. Some of the traits I saw in him were like looking at myself in a mirror.
I chose The Little Prince as my profile picture because it reminds me of the metaphor about our situation.
The Rose in The Little Prince is a symbolic character that represents love, fragility, and the complexity of human relationships.
It is the only plant that grows on the Little Prince's planet, and he cares for it with dedication, even though he finds it capricious and difficult to understand. The Rose embodies the idea that love requires commitment, patience, and understanding. Initially hurt by her proud and seemingly selfish attitude, the Little Prince decides to leave to explore other worlds—just as I left my neighborhood to find a better place, forgetting Massimiliano.
Later, thanks to his encounter with the Fox, he realizes that his Rose is special because it is his Rose—the one he has dedicated time and affection to. By the end of the book, the Little Prince decides to return to his planet because he understands that his Rose is unique and that their bond is irreplaceable. Through his journey and his meeting with the Fox, he learns that love is not about perfection but about care and commitment.
Even when he sees an entire garden full of roses similar to his, he understands that none of them can replace her. His Rose is special because it is the one he loved, protected, and devoted his time to.
The book concludes with the Little Prince leaving Earth to return to his planet. While his fate remains ambiguous, the message is clear: true love cannot be replaced—it must be cultivated.
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