I think I am about to discover a new character
in this book that I call my life.
I met her in the toilet of the laundromat
that I am waiting in right now.
I saw her in the mirror.
I looked her in the eyes and I started to understand
that I am actually this other person
that looked back at me through the mirror.
This person that anonymously shared a life
and a body with me for the last 35 years.

The one that I despised so much.
The one that I didn’t want to see at all.
The one that I always tried to pretend that she didn’t exist.
Or at least tried to hide her from other people.
The one that I become when I’m down,
feeling insecure and worthless.
The one that has all these uncomfortable feelings.
The one that I thought it was not me but rather something
like a seperate entity that took hostage of me sometimes.
Or some kind of illness that had to be treated.

The one that I tried to fight with all that I had.
For a lifetime.

I am her.
Too.

And I am trying to see what happens
when I grant her an official permission to exist.
And I am trying to understand how I can be both of them.
All of them.
At the same time.

While I am watching the washing machine
go round and round and round…