When you look in the mirror do you like what you see? Does your reflection show something to be proud of? Honor, integrity, and courage? These could be some of those things you see, but we've all got our secrets. We all have darkness within us. It's by making the choices we make that determines our fate. It's not the choices that are difficult, but the consequences that follow those choices.
I see a glimmer of hope shine through the tears and rage as I see my reflection. That hope has diminished down to a glimmer over the years. I finally understand what it means when people ask, what happened to him or her, and their reply is: life. I see "life" in the worn out mirror in front of me. I see the faded tears from broken promises, and the battle scars from war. Wrinkles and saggy eyes where smiles and perkiness used to be. What happened? Life.
I do not wish to tell a sob story but would like to elaborate on the weight of our choices. The weight of our choices could cost us our fate. It could change our destiny. It could change everything. So how do we know we are making the right choices. How do we know we aren't going to be gravely disappointed the next time we look into a mirror? How do we know this darkness will not overcome us, and take away that last shining glimmer of hope? We don't. No matter how hard we try we will never really know for sure. Unfortunately that's life and just how things work. Life is going to happen whether we are present for it or not. It's up to us though if we want to see the darkness or try and grab that sliver of hope that is trying to fly away. It's a matter of choice.
Even though I try to push the darkness away it still creeps in. It is within the times of silence that I feel it the most, and when I'm alone. The darkness slips through the cracks and damn near suffocates me before I'd even know it had arrived. The tears fall pounding on the floor. Where did she go? Why did she leave me? Why can't I get the thought of her out of my head? Why do I feel such a stronger pull towards her than anyone else I've ever been with? These questions go unanswered making the silence that much unbearable. Thoughts of suicide come to mind; the darkness is back. Not just any suicide though a show of a suicide. Demonstrations come stomping into my head, thoughts that scare the shit out of me. These vivid pictures paint a horror story on a canvas that was once blank. I'm standing in the middle of a dark room, screaming bloody murder. There's blood everywhere, squirting out of the deep gashes scratched out of in each of my forearms. There is nothing left on my forearms, leaving the skin flapping blood gushing and bones showing through. If a tiger would have taken his claws and ripped through my arms like he hadn't eaten in days, that's exactly how my arms would've looked. There's a look of terror and rage on my face that I've never see before. I just want it to go away. It wasn't there with her. She made me calm, she helped me be a better person, she really did love me. But because of my terrible choices I ruined ever having an actual shot with her.
At this particular point in the story darkness and I become pretty good friends, no doubt due to the frequent visits not due to the fact that we enjoyed each other's company. I stare at darkness and darkness stares at me, not saying a word.