Mirror Mirror on the Wall

I step out of the shower and dry myself off with the towel before wrapping it turban-style around my head. The mirror is fogged and so I use my forearm to swipe a clear spot; and take a good, long look.

I don't recognize the face staring back at me -- but I do the eyes. They've been with me since childhood. Although my body often morphs around them; they're always there, a stagnant consistency.

I wait until most of the fog lifts, and stare at my shoulders. In a few days I'll be 33; my Jesus year. Have I done anything revolutionary with my life? Do I want to? Am I capable?

Maybe that's the problem. Maybe I'm trying so hard, spinning my wheels in the same place that I haven't even checked to see if the muddy road ahead is worth venturing on?

Why am I so crazy?

Tears start to well up in the bottom of my eyes. I've become a sad, pathetic mess. Unaccomplished. Forgotten. Alone.

Even Consuela has been keeping her distance from me lately.

Sometimes I wonder why I'm here? What is the point? I'm sure God or the Universe didn't create me to be a bundle of talent and potential...all so it could get wasted away inside an overweight depressed underachiever...

I hate my life.

I stare in the mirror some more; as a familiar ringing sound occurs. It's more like a high pitched monotonous frequency:

Teeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

I try to ignore the ringing so I can get back to berating myself. My life is a reflection of my inner self deprecation...or is it? Sometimes I walk around astonished that the world I've managed to create for myself is one so lack-luster in excitement. One completely void of love.

It's stale.

The ringing continues even louder and I cock my head to the left; careful not to overthrow my turban, and try to shake it away.

But it doesn't go.

And then I see it --

Almost invisible at first; but through some of the faded mist of the fog from my shower, I can see that it's there. And the tears begin to fall.

The black sinew has an almost invisible-like appearance; but somehow the mist on the mirror allows me to recognize it's presence. I peer closer to gain a better perspective on the coil. As I do so, the ringing becomes fragmented, then sharper -- then louder.

I widen my eyes in and effort to allow more light in, to see if that will offer any more clarity on what I think I'm seeing.

But it doesn't. And seconds later the remainder of the fog on the mirror completely disappears and I'm left blind again to the coil that is wrapped around my upper left arm -- or was it my neck? I didn't have the best look...

I start to think about the negative thoughts I was having moments earlier -- and how they never entered my mind as a child. I never doubted myself way back then...

How did I become this self-loathing pathetic excuse for a human being? No wonder no one wants to be with me...

The ringing stops. I wonder if it has a connection to the coil? Could it be some sort of demon frequency?

This is not how my life is suppose to go...

Why is it that everything negative depresses the hell out of me? And everything positive fills me? It's as if we weren't created to live or function in the negative...

The negative is a lie? From the demons?

My head starts to hurt. I feel a drop of something on my forehead and so I look up towards the ceiling. A hole is there and from it, I can see the claws of a demon yanking on something -- perhaps my coil that I can no longer see. As the claws yank, I notice a yellow liquid running downward towards me. From time to time the velocity gains such speed that the odd drop will leap from the flow and land on my towel -- or forehead.

The liquid is poisoning me...

I think I hear the demon cackle, but then I start to think about all the things that irritate me; and make me angry. I start to remember everything bad thing that eroded the essence of who I was; that happy, carefree, fearless little girl from not so long ago.

The world did this to me...

Or did it? My heart is racing. I try to take deep breaths because I want to leave the bathroom; but I can't. I'm immobilized. Trapped. Fixated on all the things that make my life so difficult. All the things that make me hate being here.

I know the yellow liquid is causing me to become weak and drowsy; and so I take a seat on the bathroom floor and put my head between my knees.

I'm overdosing on a demon's toxic elixir.

I close my eyes. Sweat begins to pour heavily from my forehead, and my breathing becomes shallow.

I want to throw up.

Somehow, I'm managing to levitate my rational thoughts above the negative ones that the demon pours into me.

Maybe I am still that happy, carefree, fearless girl? Maybe my whole messed up unfulfilled life is a lie?

But before I can complete the train of thought I'm battling to formulate, I feel the faintness from the mental exhaustion take over me -- and I become light headed. I see a drop or two of my own blood hit the bathroom tile, before I close my eyes. And as I listen to my heart skip a few beats; I hope I remember what I was thinking.

Somehow, it may be the only line of defence I have to get me out of this mess.

And then I pass out.