The Long Road to a Smile

I’ve always had a weird, complicated sense of humor. Ever since I was a kid.
The kind of things that made me laugh never made anyone else laugh — and vice versa.

You don’t realize it at first, but that shapes you.
Every time you say or do something super-funny (at least in your head) and people stare at you like you’re insane, it changes you a little. You stop thinking of yourself as “the funny one,” and—willingly or not—you turn into an introvert.

That’s what happened to me. For 48 years I was convinced my ideas just weren’t funny to 99% of people. Every classmate I ever had confirmed it. Over time I made a few friends (I’ve always preferred quality over quantity), but deep down I still believed I wasn’t a funny person.
Even my wife took twenty years to understand my sense of humor. When we first met, sometimes she laughed and sometimes she looked worried—but now she laughs every single time (well, almost).

Then came COVID-19. We were all locked inside, and like many others, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I needed information, sure, but also that strange kind of comfort that can come from a stranger who somehow thinks like you do.
And that’s when the miracle happened.

I live in a small town, not exactly a social butterfly, so imagine my surprise when, on what was still called Twitter, I found people who seemed exactly like me. I followed a few of them, a few followed me back… and the craziest thing: when I wrote something, they laughed. God bless them—they laughed.
It was strange at first. Like discovering, way too late, that I’d missed the chance to meet people who actually get me.
Some lived far away, some were completely different from me—different backgrounds, jobs, even intimidatingly smart—but they were real. Little voices through my phone, yet each one belonged to a living, breathing human somewhere out there. Unreal.

So, little by little, I started sharing the things I’d never told anyone: short stories, small ideas I’d written or just imagined.
And again (and even now, thinking about it), came that rare sense of wonder—people liked them. Some liked them a lot.
Eventually I gathered them all into a book — a collection of 111 stories — and self-published it on Amazon.
It’s not selling much (I’ve made about one euro per story so far, LOL), but it’s something I never imagined I’d do, and yet… I did it.

And that brings me here, talking about graphics and T-shirts.
Because even this, just five years ago, in the world before, would have seemed absurd.
And yet, here I am.

I hope I can make you smile.
Every time I make someone laugh, I heal a little.


In the picture: 
it’s me with my personal protection device, December 2021.
During lockdown, I went shopping like this.
Not sure if it was art, rebellion, or just boredom — probably all three.
Everyone wore masks — I just went full Pandoro.