The only thing thats really ever scared me in my life is the man in the mirror. Now, dont mistake this person with a reflection. The man staring back at you in the mirror is not the accurate depiction of anything you hold true about yourself. The woman in the mirror follows the same rules.
The reason this person staring back at me frightens me to such a degree is because that person is the only thing i can use to justify my progress or degradation. My mind is a hard-wired nexus of disbelief when it comes to any notion of “truth” anywhere in this goddamn world. When i look into the mirror i will often see the tired young man exhausting himself with putting on one charade or another. This life is an act and i’m the best goddamn actor i know, and everyone around me plays right along with the carousel of revolving illusions. I should have kicked this writing gig along time ago and picked up this natural talent for putting on the show.
Time to change the tone again. The man i don’t see all the time, the man that sleeps dormant inside me and brings bright hails of the future into my dreams is the man i want to grow up to be. I see him disfigured and strained under the demands of these performances, but i see him with a smirk of defiance plastered across his weathered face. That’s the man in me that has never given up, and i desire nothing greater than bringing him to the surface and letting him seize the reigns.
And once i clear myself “of all this clatter, and clutter, and ridiculous ritual” I will see the exact means of resurrecting this unconquerable piece of myself back to reality. Reality! Oh woe to reality, and a fuck you to all these rules that come with it. This is not a mirror this a piece of glass that tricks the eyes.
When the signs appear, one has but two choices. And the signs have appeared, my friends. I have been offered a choice to either become the man in the mirror or the man who I am destined to be. With such strong conviction in one’s self, what need are there for pharmaceuticals, or other crutches of less-boasted legitimacy? I tire of these restrictions, and my restrictions will tire of me. Determination runs like poison through my veins on some pitch-wild evenings. And lately those are what my nights have been like. Shameless admittance of myself as a drug-addled parody of the person i truly am. That, my friends, is what i need the most right now.
(chandler j allen)
