Mom asked me the other day how starting my modeling career may affect my reputation. I shrugged my shoulders and gazed at her in amazement. I really did not know what to say. My reputation was destroyed in the societal sense long ago, but I do not care much. I am not a people-person. All I crave for is a bowl of buckwheat with cold-pressed olive oil and juicy tomatoes. Participating in societal games is not included in the scope of my interests; therefore, losing face in the eyes of others was never something I paid any attention to.
Things that I am truly scared of are hunger and homelessness. As long as I put food on the table and have roof over my head, I feel good, I feel powerful, I feel safe.
Am I handshakeable for those, who divide the world into black and white, good and bad, rich and poor, cold and hot? Probably not. I do not adhere to their principles since they are rigid, and I detest rigidity. I go with a flow, I am flexible and fluid, and I negotiate with my conscience.
I never understand those who claim they can’t live without a particular male or a female. I can’t imagine living without toilet paper. But living without another person is clearly doable. Living without Greg is very doable. It was painful first, but little by little, cravings subsided, and I started breathing freely.
– You have never been my friend, – I caught Emy sobbing hysterically. Her mascara was a total mess since she kept rubbing her eyes. Black streaks on both cheeks and red blotchy neck made her look disgustingly helpless; she was like a little kitten in runny poop. – You are a toilet, guys use you like a restroom. – Sob, sob, and explosion of tears. – I hate you. I will destroy you. It’s a small community, people will know. No one will ever accept you again. You won’t fit it, your son won’t fit it, you will have to leave.
– – Emy, – I was getting really tired of her endless stream of consciousness, and was ready to leave- sounds like you are describing to me your worst nightmare.
– – You broke my family! – she was literary screaming at my face
Too much drama make me feel bored. I did my best not to yawn. I did not want the situation to get worse than it was.
– What is it that you want from me, my dear? – I was trying to remain as tactful as possible
– – Return Greg, he is mine
– -We are not in Publix, and he is not tofu, Emy. He makes his own choices, we all do.
– – Slut
– -Have a good evening, – I left her house relieved to finally escape her tantrums.
There were 3 missed calls and 2 voice mails from Greg on my phone. He wanted to stop by, and I did not want anyone that night. Not that I cared much about broken bits and pieces of my reputation, I was just tired, and sleepy, and wanted a warm shower and a book in bed.