I stared into the mirror. I looked away and rubbed my eyes. And looked back. I looked away and cried. And looked back. But the girl that I thought I had lost...was back. Her gaze froze me to the core of my bones. What had brought her back, one might wonder. Maybe it was the slow trickle of blood streaming down my leg. The agonizing pain, of which I now knew would only worsen throughout the years. Decades. My lifetime.
Maybe it was the sudden slap of reality. That my brother was going off to the marines, and I had no idea when I would see him again. But I could so clearly remember last time I saw him. I remember a man walking over to hug me. Dressed in black, as was the rest of the crowd. He told me it was okay to cry. And only after he had walked away, did I realize that that man was my brother.
Maybe it was the pain of the absence of my father. Who has now been but a small speck of my life for four months now. Who keeps calling every couple of weeks to drone on about how much he misses me. I know how this works. Guilt me into another visit. Just so he can sleep and leave me to my agony.
Maybe it's that I have no one but a once a week therapist to talk to. And besides her, my life stays bottled up deep inside me. And it's times like these, where the bottle bursts.
Times like these where the tight grip of the screaming music, which would be so peaceful any other day, had no aide to my collapsing soul. All I could do was shiver in the blow of an old window fan. If I were to turn it down, or worse, off completely, the fire that has been ignited from deep inside my gut, would flare up again. And I was in no mood to be bothered with a forest fire inside my stomach.
From another world, somewhere far away, just out of reach, I could smell burning wood. A soft smell drifting from the porch to my window. Caught in the blades of a fan, and thrust towards me. I had the urge to limp in it's direction. With a bag of marshmallows griped tight in my sweaty palms. Like old times. I pictured a little girl trotting through the house, bouncing with joy. I pictured my former self.
Then I was swiftly brought back to my world. Where I confined to the floor, writhing in pain. Wishing there was a magical button I could press to end this anguish swiftly, with ease, cleanly.
But like a friend, that was not so little as a friend in my mind, told me, wishes never come true.