Mirrored Fears

Most days I wake up feeling OK and things seem a bit clearer, other days I wake up and can't even face myself in the mirror because I find it impossible to face my reflection. It's a cold and callous recollection of all of my imperfections. Suddenly, it's not me I'm looking at anymore, but some horrid apparition I've never seen before. It's the manifestation of the things I've never been man enough to face, so I push them down into a dark, dark place hoping I never see them again but they always come back to the surface. I turn away from the mirror, out of sight out of mind, thinking that if I leave the mirror, I can leave the demons behind. I know that's a lie their in my head whispering deceit, breaking my psyche down until I admit defeat. It's a problem that can't just be ignored, but it's not easy to get rid of the things you've abhorred. The cracks and breaks in your ego are hard to cover up, especially when you're already broken and beaten up. Sometimes I just don't feel like picking up the pieces because the constant torment and voices never ceases. "You'll never be good enough, you'll never amount to anything" skips on repeat in my head until it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. The worst part is the words never come from outside influences, but always internal circumstances. Self-hate and self-loathing begin to define who I am and who I'll be, clouding my eyes and distorting everything I see. Before I know it the world is cynical and cold, I don't even want to live long enough to be old. I'd rather crash and burn at 22 then live a life hating every single thing that I do. These words and lines pale in comparison to what others write and I'll never be able to do anything right. I claw and pound on the walls inside my mind, trying to find a scrap of decency that I can hide behind. God forbid I let people see the demons hiding in my body because who could ever love someone so gaudy? All of this tension is building inside of me though because I have no way to vent or let it show. So I write these poems and stories in hopes to gain some glory. A vain and shallow hope that maybe if I expose my flaws people will give me some sort of faint applause. 'Oh my, you're so brave and strong to put yourself out there, tell me why do you think that talent is so rare?' It's not. I'm not some mythical hero pulling off the impossible, I'm just a broken idiot trying to make something out of the illogical. A simple guy trying to pull together the wreckage of himself to possibly make it into oneself. Trying to banish the demons from his head and replace them with something more gentle instead. I'm trying to create a reflection I can finally bear, instead of avoiding my own blank stare.