Letting it out
Autor: Sérgio Muknicka | Publicado: 2010-12-20T13:17:00-02:00

That symptom used to come over him once every week. Every Friday, when the working hours were almost over, the feeling came sly and ruthless. By the time the office was getting ready to call it a day, he got more and more afraid because he knew the feeling would come to possess him mercilessly like it always did. There was nothing he could do after being taken by that sensation of excruciating confidence. He has never been that secure in his whole life. Someone who has always taken the safest road, the most harmless decisions, and now it was like something strange had taken control of his body. As if some spirit whose personality was already dominating his, was representing a role which conveniently was his life. And, in spite of all the control under which he had been submitted, the only safe piece of knowledge he had was that that serious brunette man wasn’t him anymore. At dusk, he sensed that the strange behavior was slowly getting stronger as a wicked glare passed by his eyes. When looking in the mirror, he thought he could be turning himself into someone else. Nonsense!A hot shower would calm those crazy thoughts. It didn’t. After all the hot steam, the expensive aftershave balm and pricey perfume, he kept staring at that naked body in the closet’s full-length mirror and couldn’t recognize those forms. The strong thighs, the muscular shoulders and the impetuous look in his face… That wasn’t his figure. He was inconsolable because he couldn't know whose body was that. The man looked at the alarm clock at the nightstand. It was late. Late enough so kids could be in their beds and grown-ups out of theirs to do what they were well-known for doing best: drinking, having casual sex, causing trouble and feeling lonely afterwards. His heart started pumping stronger than ever. Another glare at the alarm clock, he knew exactly what he had to do to find himself again. “I need to find out who owns this body because certainly it isn’t me” – the feeble voice thought before fading away for the rest of the night.A pair of jeans and a tight black t-shirt were just enough. He left the apartment driving dangerously fast and aiming for some crowded nightclub with a great deal of blinding lights, loud electronic music and drowsy colorful drinks. As soon as he got there, he felt that sensation again… the confidence emerging from the depth of his being. And, as the music was getting louder, he seemed to be getting possessed again by those feelings which made him feel as if he was being ignored by his own self. And then, for the rest of the night, the confident man acted while he just observed. In the morning after, a bright Saturday, he woke up. Now he was feeling insecure and sad just like he used to – insecure and depressed was good! He looked and saw in the bed lying next to him was a naked girl sleeping. He was extremely shocked because he had no idea whatsoever of how that girl ended up with him. A pretty girl with blond hair and beautiful legs. He was cold. The hangover was awful. It was like as if his head was going to explode and his mouth had been filled up with cotton, so dry it was. He got up and went to the kitchen. Dirty glasses, an empty bottle of wine and next to the counter was an ashtray overfilled with half burnt butts, even though he didn’t smoke. Well… he could at least feel some comfort knowing that it hadn’t actually been him who did all that. He got dressed and left leaving the front door opened so the girl could find her way out. And every Friday went like that. By the time he got in a place no mattered where that confident ghost would take place and act as him, doing everything he had never dared to do. The ghost would also leave him pieces of the turbulent night so he ashamed could reconstruct “his” itinerary and clean up after that ghost’s actions the next day.