kevinstronglydislikes-blog

[kevinstronglydislikes-blog]

But I know there's a mirror in every room of my Mind Castle, and through it everything is distorted. The castle in ruins. Decrepit, vandalised. A dark, rolling cloud plainly visible through the half-collapsed ceiling.

And a shadow version of me, always there, doing the same things I'm doing... but when I'm drawn to look into the mirror, I always catch his eyes. A glance turns into a staring contest, and I'm overcome with his pity for me, his negative perception rippling out and changing the real. The change begins with the wilting of the tulips I have in in the room. Taking life away.

The window crashes open by a torrent of air, flipping open my journal - memories, thoughts and ideas ripped out by a poltergeist. The window shatters.

Outside, the sun is quickly devoured by a rolling tide of clouds. Everything in the room with an on switch comes to life on cue, clicking and whirring and beeping and bopping, a cacophonic symphony of doodads reaching a high, painful register at the bounds of their electronics. The crescendo punctuated as they explode from the stress, taking out the overhead lights with them.

The wind is throwing furniture over, now, and the noise floor rises - the window a broken vocal chord strummed to a breaking point by the wind, picking up the slack from the electronic choir that hit their mark on a death note.

The wallpaper begins to peel back as the wind grabs onto long horizontal strips, and they start flailing against the walls, the room itself thrashing in the last few moments of drowning.

And despite the world ending around me, I can't look away from my doppelganger. It's me. That's me. We're both the same.

We *deserve* the same. Sooner than other times, a thought threads the needle with an angel dancing on it in my mind, and I convince myself that...

...No. There are two sides and I'm standing on this one.

In the past, I would stand frozen, letting my world implode. Looking at myself in the mirror and thinking "you deserve this."

In the past, it would take so, so, so long. I would eventually break the gaze and at the flip of a switch the wind would stop the assault. But the damage had been done, and I would then have to begin picking up the pieces.

In the past. Now, it's different. Now, I meet his gaze with compassion instead of fear. Instead of an invasion, there is a crossover. Instead of my world collapsing it feels like the earth rumbling and the wind *does* rise - but on his side of the mirror, the black tulip petals on the floor float back up to the vase, catching the one brief ray of light fighting through the clouds, and as they pass through the beam they return to their vibrant palette, collecting like a school of fish resting into an immaculate arrangement defiant amongst the condemned.

On my side some plates are shaken off of the table, crashing. I walk closer to the haunted looking glass, my mirror match now becoming silhouetted by the fireplace roaring to life behind them, the flames gasping for air and heaving with strength, radiating a warmth across the room.

I stand next to the mirror, now, ignoring the rattling building I occupy and raising my palm the the glass. He raises his palm to mine.

He looks scared.

I sweep my arm over to one side of the mirror and back, using it as a paintbrush for sunlight. I keep sweeping, back and forth, cutting through the dark clouds on his side. The clouds are deep and my effort seems futile, until I finally break through - a long blade of sun crashes into the dark manor and cleanses the room, an arc of colour running diagonally across the walls, to the floor, and outside. I stop and lower my hand after seeing a result. The gap in the clouds collapses like a wound healing. My reflection is standing now, at the precipice of the beam that had... had barely hit him. But the streak of colour bisecting the room is indelible. He is still scared. Tears are bunching up beneath his eyes but he struggles to hold them back.

My eyes open, his closed, I walk through the mirror and give him a hug. I tell him I love him. I break from him for a moment, giving him the second he needs to look into my eyes and draw strength from the truth. I walk over to the tulips and remove a pink one from the bouquet. I am back in front of him, now, and I take his hand. Before I can place it into his, he begins to cry. His truth is that when I give it to him, it will turn to ash. I give him time to find my eyes again.

I give him more of my strength. Upon his face, hope breaks through. It's as powerful as the sun, and I place the tulip into his hands. It does not wilt, or turn to ash. I hug him once more and step back through the mirror, leaving him. My mirror match smiles briefly. He watched as I sweep up the broken plates and tidy up the furniture that had toppled during the quake. He turns to his table, grabbing a drinking glass and placing the tulip inside, placing it near the fireplace.

We will meet each other's gaze again. It used to take so, so long. Now, it's different. Now I meet his gaze with compassion instead of fear. My world shakes and rattles. But I love everything and everyone in my world, including him. It just took me a while to figure that out.

[kevinstronglydislikes-blog]