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
falling
drop
by
drop
by
drop.
I wake up every morning.
I look into a mirror
and in the cracked glass
this is my reflection.