Man In The Mirror (re-post)
Posted by bretthperkins on February 23, 2010
He’s there. Looking at me. His eyes say so much more than words could ever express. The sadness, the despair, yet somehow, behind the fog there is such happiness and light. I can’t figure him out. How can he look at me with such guilt and at the same time, with such blame. He’s angry. Furious. But why? He knows what I go through. He’s been there the whole time. He should understand. He doesn’t. Yet at the same time, how is it possible for him not to? I want so much to talk to him. To ask him how he feels, and how he would do things different, but that’s insane. I can’t speak to him any more than I can speak to an idea or a dream. The impulse to speak overpowers me, and I begin. I yell. I ask why? I want an explanation, but he can’t offer one. How is it that he can’t? If anyone knows how I feel, HE should. I continue to yell, to scream, but he just stands there, mocking me. In frustration, I punch him. That. . . was a mistake. I watched as the shattered pieces of the mirror fell to the ground, and wept as I cradled my broken hand.
Posted on my Myspace blog on May 31, 2007.
-=brett=-
