Book thoughts

I must lament for a short time. I am plagued with enduring sadness. Of which the likes I have not yet seen before. This is a statement most improbable, but I do not recall a time of such everlasting, wholly encompassing malady such as this. My thoughts stay mild and joyous frequently, but every so often my thoughts drift to the deepest crevasse of my brain and tell me how inadequate I am. How crude and unbearable I am to be around. How everyone loathes me. My brain tells me all the ways that I have made irreparable errors amongst friends. It tells me ways in which I leave town and this Earth for the betterment of those around me.

 

I live in constant fear of the second person that lives in my brain. The one that lurks in the dark and pulls me beneath the surface when no one else is around. When I reach the bottom, this person, twisted beyond what could possibly be loved, leads me by hand to a reflecting glass. A mirror pool illuminated by synapses firing. I look into the glass and repel in horror. I close my eyes, too terrified to view who is inside it. After the initial horror subsides, I open my eyes once more to find a woman staring back at me. Her hair, a muted gold, falls just beneath her collar bones, her face is round, but angular, her nose, small but sharp, and her eyes.. Her eyes are full of sorrow, nothing in this life could prepare a person for what lies behind those ashen pools. Glossy with tears, little drops drip down her face. Each tear holding a memory of which torments her soul. She is sad, but her sorrow is not to be shared, her pains are not nearly as great as those around her, so she hides her aches back behind her eyes. She scoops up all those woeful tears and pushes them back into her reservoirs. Waiting until the next time these insolent tears break through the the thin vail they sit behind. I am most compelled by her image, frightened to see that she bears an odd resemblance to myself. Though I seem to have just seen her mere seconds ago, I held her hand on the way to this looking glass. She stands next to me now. She pulled me to the deep. I don't know where I am, but I know she is here with me, she is in in my mirror and she reflects back at me. When I wake from this internal nightmare I am fearful to look in the mirror. I know she waits for me in the rain, she waits for me in the window, she waits for me and I fear her. I am scared to look into her eyes. I am terrified of what she sees in me, she must be scared of me too.