Mirrors and Gates

[ProdigalSon]

I have always hated mirrors.

And there are so many different flavors of hatred beneath that superficial sentence. Such a bland statement fails to explain how even a fleeting glimpse can alter reality for me. It’s hard to explain how reflections of one reality can make another reality more difficult for me.


Sometimes mirrors act as bludgeons, leaving me battered and bloody.
Sometimes mirrors are traps that eat time and memory leaving behind only odd emptiness.
And sometimes a glance at a mirror is a tumble and a gap and a gasp and I pull away as someone different.

Sometimes a mirror is a switch and sometimes it’s a gate and reality before and after are not the same.  I am not the same.

Sometimes an accidental glance is a push and I’m through and, again, just trying to figure out who I am and where I am and most of all what are the rules, what is the goal, and what is the punishment waiting.


I have always feared mirrors.

Mirrors show me a reality - but rarely the one I’m experiencing at that moment.
Mirrors show me just how different I really am.