A Conversation With The Man In The Mirror

Flickr / Tama66
Flickr / Tama66

I looked at him. And he looked at me.

The feeling inside me the second I stared at his eyes were like a mixture of different colors and intensities and wavelengths. I don’t know if I should feel bad for him or make him happy or just leave him there in his cold abyss of nothingness. One thing’s for sure: he’s troubled. And honestly I don’t know how to approach him.

He was still staring at me.

“Can you just,” I started. “Can you just… please… stop looking at me like that,” “What? Are you offended if I stare at you?”

“No I’m not offended.” I said. “Besides, why would I be?” He shrugged. I saw his shoulders soften a little. I think he’s calm now. Finally. I can be calm too. I leaned back to my seat, and so did he.

“Tell me,” he said. “Why are you here?” “I am… I’m here to talk to you.”
“About what?” “Everything,”

“We don’t need to talk about that. We’ve already discussed that before, right?” he said.

“Yeah I know. But it’s still… haunting me.” I said lowly. He chuckled as I looked down on his arms. I saw the tag on his left arm. I see his name on it. I never got used with him wearing a hospital gown. From what I see he doesn’t look that sick. He does have those dark circles around his eyes and his hair looked like a complete mess, but never looked sick at all.

Then I remembered how he looked like when we were young. He was so happy; always filled with life. He was an explorer of the world; a lover of curiosity.

He was… human, then.

Well we weren’t really human at all to start with. I don’t know. Maybe it’s just me.

“Are you done daydreaming?” he said. I guess he caught me staring at his arms again. He hates it when I do that.

“I’m sorry. I’m just…” “You know what?” “What?”

“Fucking stop it.” “With what?”

“With thinking about everything,” he placed his left hand on my shoulder. “I don’t want you to get hurt again. Not anymore,”

I nodded. I was about to cry when he placed his hand on me. It’s the first time he did that to me. I never was intimate or physical or touchy, and so was he.

“Thank you for staying,” I said. “I know… I know you’ve had moments where you’ve wanted to leave me and leave everything behind. Thank you,”

“Hey,” he said. “I never left. Maybe you felt the whole world left you. But not me. I’m always here. The world may have given up on us… but not me. I’m never gonna leave you.”

I looked at him again. I saw him smile. It really brightened up my mood. I put my hand on his, the one on my shoulder. I felt his warmth. I felt he’s there. Finally.

I see tears coming out from his eyes. And I felt tears coming out from mine too. He was the man in the mirror. TC mark

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