Degenerate I

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The first day I didn’t notice anything. Of course I’m lying. I noticed something, but there was no way I’d think of it somehow. The lighting can change things, people just look different. I peered closer in the mirror, the rectangular portrait mirror with a little crack in the top right corner. My eyes looked a different color. I squinted, changed the lighting, put on a different color shirt. They did change a little, but they weren’t the usual blue. Oh well, it was all just a trick of the light. Eyes are very susceptible to light.

I was talking to Jessie and I was saying things I didn’t mean. She looked at me funny. I laughed at my own joke, but I knew it was stupid. I regretted saying it. I did make a lot of stupid jokes, though. This one was just the kind that makes you think, okay, no. Stop it. She shrugged it off, and I said something legitimately funny. She laughed. We talked again.

I was listening to music on the bus. Evan sat down next to me. I nodded.
“Hey.” He was excited. It was easy to tell, from his eyes, the way his lips parted like he was constantly on the verge of saying something. He didn’t say anything, though. He looked at me for a second, then just sat there looking ahead. I really liked the song I was listening to and didn’t pause it, but I could hear him. He definitely didn’t speak.

I sat there remembering things. You ever do that? Sit and remember? Just think about times that you enjoyed? More often, times I didn’t enjoy. It’s nice to reflect and see how many dumb things you’ve done. You can compare it to how many dumb things you do now. Learn from them.

I don’t remember doing what everyone said I had done. They say it was uncalled for, insulting. “Rude, crude, bad attitude, dude.” He said. Motherf*****, I don’t care. He’s trying to convince me otherwise, but I know I didn’t do any of that. It is impossible for them to know what they’re talking about, I know whether I’ve done something or not. The fact of the matter is that I know I didn’t therefore I can’t have. But I looked in the mirror. Who is that? I blink, rub my eyes, and there is my reflection. The mirror’s clouded, or something. Maybe it has soap on it. You know how soap stains, like from a liquid soap, can warp the image. Wiping the mirror. It did get a little clearer. Damn.

The darkness falls and I don’t know what is going on. Today I spoke eleven times without thinking. That’s not supposed to be a big deal, some people just blurt out what’s on their mind. It wasn’t on my mind, I just say things. I only realize it afterwards. I even started doing things and I don’t know why. I slapped Jessie, but I didn’t feel it. She hasn’t talked to me since. I’m starting to lose it, I can’t ever see what’s going on quite well. It’s like I’m out of touch, but yet I know, I can tell, I’m right here all the time. Would you like to meet me?

“Hey you, in the mirror, stop twisting my weak mind, hey you, in the mirror, I’ll smash your face to pieces.”

Evan doesn’t talk to me anymore. I don’t really get why, but someone told me it was because he thought I was a d*****bag. I can be an a**hole occasionally, but really? He’s way too sensitive. I don’t even know what specifically I did. I know he wants to talk to me a lot, but hey, I can’t be available all the time. Guys don’t do things like that, nobody listens to me like that, it’s just not what they do.

“Don’t tell anyone else, but I do not believe them
(she hates me)
Cloud my mind, oh she’s a deceiver
I can see through the pain now,
Would you like to meet me?”

The fall of it was almost unbearable it had been in my life so much it was so important simple ever so like grunge out I could use it see it see my face. Throw a punch shards bleed on the floor I cannot feel anymore this face haunts me I try to hold back but but somehow there is someone else. This shadow in the mirror who is that he is looking at me, he raises his fists, he holds the knife, the gun death is all I have to give he tells me the meaning of life (not to live but to die) welcome. I can’t feel breath anymore should I regret if I am dead yet. The shards in my knuckles hurt but have I defeated him or is he still there that seed of doubt exists and grows. They told me what was wrong they are wrong they are the wrong ones I know it is me I know who I am what I am what I do I do not believe her. That scathing face. Face face who is that in the mirror I cannot believe her steady the hand this broken bloody hand. Nothing can hurt you anymore oh death is so much more. Shards on the floor bits of his face they are no more I am free or am I dead yet?





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