ECCOLA

DOV'È LA VETRINA DEL COLLEZIONISTA

Every time I see someone break spaghetti my eyes turn red, I've lost multiple girlfriends over this and I'm honestly afraid I'll never have a chance at finding my true love and getting married. I always end up ruining everything, all of this because I'm Italian. There really needs to be more awareness about what being Italian is like, I never see anyone talk about it. Probably because it'll end up being taken as a "silly joke". People need to understand we're being serious. This is not some joke, this is the harsh reality.

I don't understand how people can accept so easily. I'm sorry if I'm typing too much, but this just reminded me how bad I really need to get this off my chest. I don't think anyone understands how scary and confusing it is to wake up everyday and see an Italian staring back at them in the mirror. Stop with the "I wish Italians were real" jokes. It's not funny.

I hate being Italian. It all started in the spring of '77 when my father was born. If it was possible, I would go back to that moment and warn that little baby that he should NEVER have sex with a woman in Italy. Maybe that would've changed the outcome of all these events. But deep down I know it'd all turn out the same, and there's nothing I can do about it. These days I've been trying to learn more about acceptance. If something can't be changed the only option is to accept. It's been incredibly hard though, why did he have to impregnate an Italian woman? I could've been so many other ethnicities, but no. He just had to go to Italy, god, why me? What did I do to deserve this?

he's right, you need italian blood like memories's