Staring at the mirror talking to myself, hoping I would hear the voice of my reflection.
I looked into my own eyes and saw a lost soul, drifting in whatever direction the wind was taking it.
I was hoping for a miracle, an epiphany or even just a brand new perception of life.
I tried to break out a smile but it took so much out of me, my lips just sagged back into a frown.
My motivation to keep pushing on was lost, I told myself really think about it, close your eyes try and have visions about it.
Was there a greater a plan, a bigger picture and a better life than the one we had, I highly doubted it.
I had lost my faith and when you lose your belief, you no longer have anything that carries you beyond the grief.
With my eyes bloodshot I punched the mirror with my bare knuckles and it shattered and I kept looking at myself on the broken pieces.
My hand was now bleeding and the pain was unbearable, I wanted to find the bottom of a whiskey bottle or a few hits of sweet maryjane.
But I realized the physical pain wasn’t as much as pain of losing my faith.
Tears began rushing down my cheeks, I cursed at mirror even though the mirror hadn’t done anything wrong.
The mirror had just made it possible for me to look at myself and I just hadn’t liked what I saw, what I had become, what I had let the evils of lucifer do to me.
I wiped of the tears, smiled and I apologized to the mirror, it made me realize that to give up is just giving up on yourself and to lose faith is just doubting the power of your actions.
The mirror had gotten me to take all my clothes off, it had seen me totally naked.
I don’t mean this literally but it’s a metaphor for how looking at the mirror I could truly see myself, I couldn’t hide behind any facades.
The mirror showed me my own reflection so it wasn’t biased by it’s perception and it couldn’t make mistakes.