As with every morning, my life begins again. After going down the boardwalk, I shower and open the cold water faucet, I stop for five minutes as the ice water slides down my face and passes through my body, I leave the footprint of my wet feet on the carpet and make sure I don’t drop a drop outside.
I press the dryer button, and while my image is reflected little by little as in a fantasy in the circle of the mirror framed by the steam, I try to recognize myself in an image that always seems alien to me, I let it slide and slowly I pass the oil between the drops of water sucked into my skin, not to mention an inch, from my toes to my ears.
- Then I do the makeup.
- Following in the footsteps in perfect order.
- As if I were painting a unique painting that I was going to auction.
- First the face.
- To focus the eyes with the same expression of life as a Modigliani.
- Emphasizing the almond shape of these.
- Sculpting my lashes to infinity and beyond.
I always find myself in the mouth, fleshy and well defined, with the red that stands out the most and defies the light of day and the season. Hair combed on the right side, with a large lock of hair gathered behind the ear. brushing my teeth, flossing and rinsing for five minutes.
The last point, two sprays of my favorite perfume on each ear, one on each wrist and the other between the thighs.
I open the fridge and make seasonal fruit and vegetable juices, drink a little and warm up a cup of green tea, choose a pair of high-heeled shoes, put on one of the rings in my emerald collection in the center of my right hand. I don’t like to see it combined with the left hand alliance.
I take my bag, go down to the parking lot, sit in the gleaming, gleaming bubble of my navy Bentley, press play and start playing the song?Barcarolle? D’Offenbach, and I drive back to the office. Sometimes, before I go, I forget to read the note my husband leaves me every morning, when this happens, I call the cleaning lady to open it, I don’t want her to find it closed when she arrives. I’ve always been inattenty all my life, even in the stupidest details, including the important details.
I arrive at my desk, from the reception to the row of tables that lead to my service, an increasing range of movements follows my every step: I notice how each employee sits up straight in the chair, their faces still dotted with she. . indicating lack of sleep. They greet me with a smile that I always notice has a bit of tension and fear, which makes me feel powerful when I see them miserable.
My working day must always be the same, in my own way, with my rhythms, very efficient and determined, with no margin for error; otherwise, change and my composure boils, even I fire an employee.
Back home, I pour myself a glass of wine and smoke a few cigarettes on the terrace, as I look at the lights of the tallest buildings in the city, under mine, my husband comes up to me and hugs me, I feel nauseous while doing this, I want the weekend to come so that, for work reasons, I have to leave , to really be in my lover’s arms.
Nothing makes me feel bad, nothing at all, only sometimes when I see someone smile, something shudders in me, because I don’t know when or why I forgot this gesture, sometimes, like now, I walk up in the mirror and try. a smile, but that’s when I collapse even more, because that smile is not mine, because that emotion is grotesquely sad.
Because when I look like this, depersonalized in front of the mirror, I think I am a beautiful restored facade that masks a ruined building, a fruit artificially preserved in a room, which when it came to light is broken down by lack of life. only now, when I find myself naked in front of me and anyone who wants to read this, do I feel more vulnerable and fragile.
But I want you to see this, I want you to know, I want to write, scream tomorrow as soon as I walk into the office: “Gentlemen, I’m nobody, I’m dead, I live my life without me!?to yell at him, go out and kiss everyone I know and ask them to tell me how they’re going to be happy.
Two tears, just two, run down my cheeks. So a kind of calm envelops me and a question arises that may also lead to the answer to other questions: isn’t it the beginning for me to find myself where I am?
And I just hope that tomorrow, when I wake up, my armor won’t close and keep cheating on me, locking me up and handcuffing me inside me. As you have so far, you are captive and blind in an ostentatious existence, which twists me and hurts me, making me forget everything I have written to you now in tears.