ONE EURO TO STAY HUMAN

My name is Vincenzo. My father lost his leg at 63. I live in a psychiatric community, where the ghosts eat pills and whisper in slow motion. I sold my old laptop for €25 with a broken bike and an emulator that never ran. I've won €300 at an online casino and then lost the air I was breathing. I'm tired. Hungry. Wired. I have 50 cents in my pocket and one dream in my head: *To still be human tomorrow.*

You don’t owe me anything. But if you give something, know this: I’ll write you back — in verses, in bytes, in wounds. Because thought is the only kingdom left to me. Because madness still dreams. Because I refuse to disappear without a mark.