It’s a long time since I’ve written to you, or better to me; today I’ve decided to do it.
No, no, believe me this time I’ll really do it, and with someone who will remind me of this every second and do you know why? Because I’ll write it on a mirror.
The mirror of my face, of what my eyes can see and what they don’t want to see anymore. Of a pitiless, reflected image, of a body too independent from the rules of a diet which can only show a self-evident out of shape form.
Yes dear mirror it’s a play on words! But what am I to do? I’ve tried all kinds of diets, even the most absurd ones.
Do you know there’s a diet that acts with the moon? You eat before the full moon, afterwards fast, but actual fasting.
You should have seen me! But perhaps it’s better this way, I was ugly, sad and weighed the same! And you keep watching silently and only I speak and when I look at you again I get depressed, but you’re the only one who never betrays me my amicable enemy!
I’m almost tempted to run away, I don’t like myself anymore, but is that overflowing flab, particularly when I’ve enough courage to look at my profile, really me?
But I keep my word and tonight I’ll write this letter to the end, at least until I’ll find a bit of mirror on which to write on.
The green, tight on the waist voile dress caressed my skin like gusts from summers filled with running, sun and life is now hanging in the wardrobe and seems to look at me like a sad dog shut-in for years. I can’t take you out, forgive me, I don’t know how to wear you… Be patient, maybe next year… and so on year to year…
And my green eyes stare at the mirror, watch it, challenge it, they’re not frightened, they haven’t lost anything, they have no time but they hold it all! The thermometer of my life. Joy made them greener, shinier, sorrow darkened them and colored them with shadows, love astonishing them shaded them with gold.
Today my eyes don’t seem to remember those emotions and are only a way to see, to see my transformations through time. But wait dear mirror, I have to clean a line here on the right side, I just saw it, so I can write on it! But it isn’t you who are scratched it’s my face! Don’t mockingly laugh with your Pyrrhic victory! What do you know about my life of which you only reflect the appearance! You’re just a tool, an interlocutor who permits me to speak to myself with the echo of your reflection.
But you can’t see! You just copy my image and send it back to me, a ping pong without soul. That line is a wrinkle, rather a conquest, I saved a man and little do I care if time a short while after sealed that moment, I felt happiness, which you can’t reflect.
Yes, I’ll grant you whatever you want but now I’ll take my revenge.
Try and reflect the image of my first kiss, of my first victory and of the entire spool of images which have created my life! You can’t! And as the free space on the mirror decreases, my rehabilitated soul breaks out and finally emerges and takes over the situation.
Almost like a prompter on a stage reminding me of my role and like me reawakening after a bad dream I observe myself, I meet my thoughts, my dreams, with my affections… with my life, the true one which I’m creating day by day for the present and the future.
And I start to soar thinking of a future where time and space are my allies and life doesn’t forget me.
Good-bye mirror, now you can’t hold me back anymore, everyone must play his part, you yours and me mine.
Thanks for allowing me to write to myself, now I see myself almost beautiful, I know you can’t see it, but my heart can!
Perhaps tomorrow you’ll be able to see it, too; life can work miracles!