These days, I hardly recognise the man in the mirror not because he is unknown but because I know him too well.
Now his eyes are dead. Lips are dry. His cheeks have sunken inward, and his hair, once silky, has turned now rough and barbaric. The warm aura that revolves around the kind People is gone. Which is cruel because he was inherently a kind-hearted boy.
He also lost something very essential—vitality and liveliness, which every human possesses.
And I'm guilty for what he has become.
Nowadays he seems distant even when I stand a breath away. I no longer sense the moment in his eyes. As if he were just a hollow husk of bone and flesh. Perhaps I am hallucinating, but whenever 'he' looks at me, he tries to smile. He tries very hard to smile pleasantly.
Instead of comforting me, that smile only terrifies me. I wonder if I too smile just like him and people are terrified of me also.
In the daytime, he appears normal just like me.
During the night, the same man becomes a horrifying dreadful monster that feasts on my deepest fears, mocks me, ridicules me, and sometimes…he even attempts to destroy me, as if I'm some kind of a curse that confined him inside the mirror.
I tell myself it's impossible for him to travel outside the boundaries of the mirror and hurt me but my bruised knuckles prove otherwise.
I always overcome with dread whenever I look into his eyes when the moon shines bright. Those eyes don't recognise me anymore. This frightens me more than any ghost could.
What will I become if I were to be forgotten even by my ownself. I couldn't help but shiver at this notion.
From that day I started fearing my own reflection.
No one knew him better than me, how stubborn and determined that man could become. Tears rolled down my face when I thought that if he decides to end my life, I am certain I would not resist. I simply lack the strength to oppose that monstrosity. He carries a kind of determination that I no longer possess.
How long can a fragile mirror contain an adversary that grows every night by savouring my insecurities, fears, and all kinds of emotions?
The dread of my own reflection grew more and more intense with each passing day; soon, it became unbearable. Thus I started avoiding everything that reflects.
Tonight, the moon was bright again.
Somehow I found myself standing in front of the mirror once more.
What I saw in the mirror wasn't a monster but me, without knowing my lips curled upward slightly as the mirror spoke:
Embrace the dark night,
Suffer in this long night.
A crack surfaced on my face, then another, and then another until my face became so distorted I felt disturbed that I looked no different from a certain monster I knew personally.
Something shattered with a sharp sound
And I found blood flowing down from the forehead.
Why am I bleeding?
My memories of the earlier moments are vague and blurr.
How had the mirror broken?
Some of its pieces were painted red?
Unfortunately, I have no answer or maybe I had but I don't remember anymore.
Then I saw countless shards scattered across the floor, and moonlight hit the surface of those shards and I was momentarily blinded.
When my sight returned I saw uncountable fragments of my life inside those broken pieces of the mirror instead of my reflection.
A moment passed, my heart beating so rapidly it may outrun a horse. Then all hell broke loose.
I was overwhelmed by my own memories.
They flooded into my mind all at once.
There I witnessed:
Memories of the distant past.
Memories of a lives I never lived.
Memories of the future already lost.
Memories of self I no longer recognise.
Memories of my own funeral.
Memories of me worshipping a demon.
Memories all kinds of memories.
Every single memory that I experienced throughout my existence, surfaced.
Memories overwhelming amount of memories.
— — —
[Inside one of the many memories]
A young boy who still had soft plump cheeks was jumping with excitement.
Today,marked the beginning of his Eighth standard.
He had shifted from the north of the country to the South, and the thought of making new friends filled his innocent heart with immense joy.
If only he had known how much his life would change from this day onward… perhaps he would not have been so excited.
Ahh…
Even now, it aches to watch.
I watched with complicated emotions,as my younger self headed toward the door. He carried nothing but a small school bag and a heart full of hope.
He stepped outside and waited for the bus.
When it arrived, he climbed in without hesitation. His steps small, yet firm.
I watched him take a seat near the window.
A strange heaviness settled in my chest.
Because that boy was me.
The kinder version of me.
The naive version of me.
A boy who thought he would make new friends.
A boy who thought he would find a place to belong.
A boy who thought he would meet curious people.
…
He was so wrong.