Photographs from the album of happiness 12

This article is published in number 51 of Vanity Fair on newsstands until December 22, 2020.

Happiness is boring, my first writing teacher said. At the heart of any really good story, there is pain. I agreed with her at the time. And maybe even today. A few years ago, however, I created a secret file on my computer called “Photos from the happiness album”. From time to time I open it. And I write

He never compliments me, she said.
I don’t like his name.
He rarely wants to make love. As if you were doing me a favor.
All these years I have had to take on him and his depressions. For the daughters.
Not even once in twelve years. You are the first.
Something in the way you’ve been listening to me.
I’ve been fantasizing about you all week.
Impossible for me to come, I’m too excited.
Are you sure the door is closed?
Nobody ever sent me a song.
Does it give you pleasure?
Do You Find Me Attractive? How attractive do you find me?
Harder.
With delicacy.
I suffer from attention deficit. While doing this I might start thinking about a lamp I saw at Ikea.
That’s why I can’t come. Because I’m not focused. Don’t take it personally.
A month ago I had a panic attack. I was standing in a traffic jam and all of a sudden I felt a crazy heartbeat.
It was the sign. That I had to change something.
He doesn’t like my hair. He says they tickle him.
He also says that it is difficult to keep up with me, that I jump from one topic to another. Jump from topic to topic?
It makes me crazy how you touch me.
Does anyone have the key to this room?
I love to please you. He never moans like that.
Can you pant my name?
Panting, yes, in the ear.
Wow, this is really exciting.
But it is impossible for me to enjoy. Disconnected thoughts keep intruding.
For example: have you deleted my messages?
And don’t email me without warning.
Don’t dream of talking to your friends about me.
This is a small country.
I tried taking hyperactivity medicine, but it makes me hungry.
Do you find me fat?
So why don’t you come?
Nice of you. But it’s not worth it.
Do you want a wet tissue? I always have a package behind it.
Escape room.
We went there last Saturday with the girls.
And suddenly I felt a lump in my throat.
I don’t love him anymore. I don’t like the smell of it. I don’t like as a guide. Too slow. Eighty per hour out of town.
He arrived after a slew of men, one taller and more asshole than the other. What did I know, at twenty-two.
And now?
A prisoner on the run. Who will soon have to return to prison.
What about you? You hardly speak.
In fact, I didn’t give you the space. I’m sorry.
It’s because I’m excited. Not even once in twelve years.
But seriously, what about you? What pain are you trying to relieve?

(Translation by: Raffaella Scardi)

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