Reflection (14 May 2012)

I wake up every morning.

I look into a mirror

and in the cracked glass

this is my reflection:


I see someone who is

flawed, inadequate,

abhorrent, perhaps.

Wicked as I am.

even Elphaba would envy me.

But I don't need green skin  or a witch's hat

to know that I am under the curse

of my thoughts:

thoughts like strong waves

constantly flowing,

trying to pull me under

and drown me.


I see a person

with cut after cut

on their wrists,

their arms

their legs.

I slash away,

trying to abolish the aberration

that is my existence.

But, while the wounds are soon to heal

and the blood will quickly wash away

the scars will forever remain

a constant reminder of my weakness

and of a battle lost before it had begun.


“It’s okay.”

“You’ll be alright.”

“Things will get better.”

No.  Can’t you see?

It isn’t okay,

I’ll never be alright,

and things will not get better.


I’ve waged a war against the Goliath that is society

But they have taken my slingshot

they have broken it

broken me

into pieces

with their words

their slurs and slander

their taunts and vilifications.

“Freak. Failure. Whore. Slut.”


But worst of all is their silence,

blissful ignorance.

What will become of it

if I do what I will not live to regret:

if I commit suicide,

a suicide in which they will have

undoubtedly played a part?

What excuses are left to be made then?

“We didn’t know, we didn’t realize.

She looked fine that day.  

We never would have thought

she was suffering so.”


The weight on my shoulders

of my drawbacks, defects, deficiencies,

six billion secrets --

it is a burden of titanic proportions,

an encumbrance under which I am sinking.

Tears well up in my eyes

flowing uninhibitedly, unrestrainedly








I wake up every morning.

I look into a mirror

and in the cracked glass

this is my reflection.



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