As I look at the depth-defining, truth-defiling mirror in front of me, I see the reddest of cuts and bruises spread across my face. The deceitful eyes glare endlessly through the framed glass picture to the small dagger rattling in my shaking hands. Light pink pools gather at the bottom of the unplugged sink below me. The blood from the cuts below my eyes mixes with the solemn tears dripping down my blood-stained cheeks. The reflection of my demonic smirk turns into an uplifting smile, leading into a chuckle, then an outburst of hysterical laughter. The audacity and ambition are manipulated by the endless thoughts of losing control of my feelings completely. I stress to myself that I must not reveal my true intentions to the silhouette of darkness dancing and mocking in front of me. But the vision of the world that he portrays cannot be underestimated. Looking at how he stares at me, blinking as I do, I realize that I must rid myself of his overshadowing presence. He has already distorted me so viciously that he appears tiresome - not from the infinite beatings, but from the sheer boredom of torturing the same victim over and over again. The look on his face exposes and explosion of ideas in his head roaming freely as ethereal souls being taken to their next lives. I know of the dreams of which he wishes to accomplish. He allows me to see what he sees. We are opposites though, and due to this fact and prior knowledge of what he has done in the past, I cannot stand back and watch as his evilest of plots unfolds. So I grip the sordid knife with my dominant hand and thrust with all my might. And finally I have shattered the mirror image.
April 26, 2012