Chose myself instead...

He had a bizarre rapport with this mirror and spent a lot of time gazing into the glass to see who was there. Sometimes it looked like him. At other times, he could see someone similar but different in the reflection. A few times, he caught the switch in mid-stare, his expression re-forming like melting rubber, the creases and features of his face softening or hardening until the mutation was complete. He felt his inner core change at the same time. He would feel more confident or less confident; mature or childlike; freezing cold or sticky hot. He slipped into the depths of the looking glass and couldn't be sure if it was him standing there or an impostor, a lookalike.

He felt fully awake most of the time, but sometimes, while he was awake, it felt as if he were dreaming. In this dream state he didn't feel like himself, the real him. He felt numb. His fingers prickled. His eyes in the mirror's reflection were glazed like the eyes of a mannequin in a shop window, his colour, his shape, but without light or focus. His weeping fits would pass and he would drag myself back to the mirror expecting to see a child version of himself. Who are you? He'd ask. He could hear the words; it sounded like him but it wasn't. He'd watch his lips moving and say it again, who are you?

Rock me through the dark side of the morning...

The kind of thing that doesn't make you proud...

It's becoming increasingly hard to keep a cool head. I feel myself spiraling, a volcano inside me ready to burst open. And I can't contain it anymore. Whether I'm propelled by my recent failures or just stepping into a new era of zero fucks to give, I am becoming quite a polarising figure. It is now evident that I have a trigger built into my head, not aware of its existence whatsoever. But a single word can pull the trigger, forcing me to feel numb and allowing the shadows to sip through the cracks in one built-up shell. One quick shot. 

Hear the whistle blow...

Nothing else had ever worked out...

My mind is wandering. It seems I strayed off course right into the eye of a tornado. I wish I were here with someone who could bring peace to my heart. Someone with whom I could spend a little time without being afraid that everything would be destroyed come next sunlight. Someone like her. With that reassurance, maybe I could, even amid the chaos, find time passing more slowly. We wouldn't even have to talk, just be silent for a while because we'd know that against the sheer force of a tornado, there is little room for conversation. Just for a bit, I wouldn't have to worry about serious matters, about difficult decisions and hard words. Only for a bit. 

To the faintest of moonlight...

To the ends of the Earth, 

I will follow you,

where the horizon meets the sunrise, 

if that's what you choose to do.

If you choose to love me,

until the end of the Earth,

I'll be your man.

Having a little too much of something terrible...

Life is amazing. And then it's awful. And then it's amazing again. And in between the amazing and awful it's ordinary and mundane and routine. Breathe in the amazing, hold on through the awful, and relax and exhale during the ordinary. That's just living heartbreaking, soul-healing, amazing, awful, ordinary life. And it's breathtakingly beautiful.

There are those who have been seeking him for over a lifetime but will sadly never get to meet. And there are those he wants to kiss but who trample him beneath ungrateful feet. There are two beasts within him. One who seems to favor the clever and the fair, and the other who is petty and overzealous. He admires all who are still brave enough to dare to know him. By large, his machinations and conjured fantasies are soft-handed and sweet, But scorned, he becomes a difficult beast to defeat. For though each of his strikes can land a powerful blow, when he kills, he will do it slow.

Only I will remain...

I know a little something about fear. We've become quite accustomed in the last few months - more so than I ever thought possible. But what a relief it is to give into it. To let it flow through me and grasp at my innards. And how easy it is for me to persuade myself that I'm doing the right thing, that I'm making the smart, safe decision. But fear is insidious. It is after all, the little death that brings total obliteration. And my pledge, as I start a year anew, is to face it and find ways to not be held hostage by it. For it takes anything I'm willing to give it, the parts of my life I don't mind cutting out, but then when I'm not looking, it takes anything else it damn well pleases, too.