Reflections

Reflections…

Aren’t they cool?

I hover over the water as I see a pale, white girl staring back at me. Puzzled, she looks so frazzled and confused. What’s in the water? Is life there better than what I’m in? Is it much colder in there like it is out here? Or is it perhaps nicer and warmer, where I would like to be?

Reflections—

Aren’t they cool? The tears that drip into the water are cold and salty. Is it like that in there, where fish swim and birds bathe, where dolphins swim and boats float?

Reflections—

Are my reflections how people see me? Why am I goofy, but when I let people in, I’m just a scared, worried little girl? Where’s the girl who was full of laughter, who loved sitting by the water? Now, all she does when she comes to the water is write and write until her head is clear. Why is there so much confusion? Why is there so much worry?

Reflections—

Aren’t they cool?

I feel almost as if I’m a doll, but by the time you pick me up, I turn into an Annabelle creation type of story. But instead of horror, it’s worry and questions like, “Am I gonna make it?”

Reflections—

It’s like me standing in a penthouse apartment in the city, looking down at the traffic and city lights. Oh, how peaceful it is from up here, but when I’m down there, it’s like overwhelming emotions that I just can’t stop. It’s almost like someone is pouring water on you nonstop, but you just keep taking it because you don’t want to move.

Reflections—

Aren’t they cool?

It’s like watching a movie on the TV screen—everything is so crystal clear, from the brightness to the sharpness to the picture-perfect screen. But then, when you blink, it’s like a flickering screen that just won’t get better when you bang it. It’s like a fast-paced highway with an uncontrollable car, with many turns, many brakes, many speeds. It’s like my brain that just feeds on worries and depressed thoughts, not knowing when it’s gonna turn or come to a complete stop.

Reflections…

Ever wonder what it was that brought you to all these headaches, pains, and worries? It’s like being a pilot on a plane but not remembering which button it is to fly the damn plane. Turbulence, unknowns—where the fuck is this plane (life) headed?

Ah, I love sitting by the water and watching the bridge, cars flying by, boats sailing by, people coming and going. Why take it fast when you can just live slow?

But oh, this aching, stabbing pain in my gut, causing me so many problems. I wish I wasn’t stuck in this rut….