Did you ever look in the mirror, and stare so long that you didn’t even know who you were looking at?   Like, you saw yourself through the windows of your soul, but you were kind of lost.   You were there, yes, but you were hiding really well.   Almost as if you were hiding so well in there that all the staring in the world couldn’t help you be found by yourself.   The only thing that could help find you was to take your fist, with all the force you humanly posses, and shatter the looking glass into a million pieces.  Only when you shattered it you were still looking back at yourself; now a million lost yous were looking back.   Then you screamed, “WHERE ARE YOU!?  I KNOW YOU ARE IN THERE, GOD DAMN IT!  COME OUT AND BE.”

Did you ever find an old picture of yourself, and stare so long that you were wondering who you were looking at?  Like, you knew it was you with that flashy smile, sparkling eyes, and perfect hair, but you were kind of lost.  You knew it was you, yes, but you didn’t feel like that girl anymore.   It’s as if the circumstances of your life happened so swiftly that you’re unsure how you got from point A to B.   The only thing that would possibly help would be to rip that picture into tiny unidentifiable shreds.  Only when you tore it up into strangely perfect polygons the only thing that happened was it disparaged you more; then you found yourself chaotically taping it back together.  Then you sobbed, “Come back to me.  I know you are out there, God Damn it! Come back to me.”

Did you ever wonder how you could merge the present and the past?    Like, you know where you are now and you know where you’ve been, but you still ache for this part of yourself that is all but gone, but not even gone.  Dare I say it’s the part of you that’s changed?

Did you ever wonder how you’ve let yourself get to this point?  Like, you know that all the choices you have made, along the way, have determined the quality of where you are now.   Dare I say that there is knowledge that you are still in charge of the choices you make?

Yes, we all wonder.  We all stare.   We all look upon our youth, sighing ever-so passionately.  We all wonder if things could have been done differently along the way, but we are also so-very thankful that things are just the way they are.   Yes, we all bleed.  We all feel pain.  We all crawl into the corners of our minds, finding repute in ourselves.   Yes, we can be found.  We all find.

When [they] ask me why I wrote this blog.  I’ll simply reply that I wrote it to be able to see myself without looking in the mirror.

This entry was posted on Friday, November 6th, 2009 at 8:05 am and is filed under Me Myself and I, NaBloPoMo. You can follow any comments to this post through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

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