Karl Hartman

Seeing Red

I was once a child, I believed that “seeing is believing” but I wasn’t ever able to see past my own reflection. I’d stare in the mirror endlessly, seeing a flaw, seeing a zit, and none of it mattered. I wanted what any normal family wanted, a loving home, a family, to be wanted. I saw nothing but red in my life, rage, anger, jealousy, and I kept it buried, it was as if I was a volcano just on the verge of eruption.