My sensitive heart, enraged mind, and dark soul wants to finally mold into one while letting nostalgia overpower my restricted domain with huge replications of devastating secrets and terrifying confessions; I’m silently hoping for some type of mystifying revelation from the mind, heart, and soul but those answers will be always be a figment of my overtly creative imagination.
I, like everyone else, can get so lost in the horrific past while letting bittersweet nostalgic memories cloud every sense; taking me in the pasts’ distant vision yet not quite far away in my own perception of what I call my mind’s broken horizon.
What I’ve captured in the mirror is a reflection of a nostalgic image: the forbidden past.
I can’t bring myself to turn away from own distorted mirror image as I let Father Time watch me intensely with his own judgmental wondering eye.
I reached out towards the misleading image while taking a step back, permitting my younger self to come through the mirror with brute force.
Tears ran down my face as I cocked my head to the side, watching the younger version of myself with many different emotions interwoven into my soul begin to manifest in the flesh and bone.
In a tiny voice when I could muster enough strength, “I am you.”
My image smirked, stepping back from the mirror to point with a finger, “Our past’s existence equates to what we want in our promising future. Isn’t that true, you? Please, enjoy the sadistic view.”
I was under scrutiny from my younger self while witnessing forgotten secrets, regretful choices, and every heart wrenching heartbreak replay back on the stained glass as tears flowed down my face.
Damn, my past really was a fucking disgrace.
“Forbidden love is what stung us the most,” I voiced softly, turning around to look for myself.
She was back in the mirror, letting the drugs crowd her world, her personal space.
I watched as she took a credit card, chopping up the 8 ball of cocaine with power.
I screamed, pounding on the mirror, “Stop it! Not again! This is not me.”
She replied with a chuckle, “You can’t change the fucking past. I am you. I am your fucking past.”
See, nostalgia will have you trying to find ‘the you’ that you once had but you must remember that ever sinner has a future with siblings: Free Will and Personal Choice.
Timing, Fate, and Destiny are distant cousins to Free Will and Personal Choice but they all are intertwined into the family with the surname of ‘Soul Mate’.
Life has a funny way of sneaking up on us if we’re not too careful.
Nostalgia, our reflection of expectations and disappointments, will always be our broken mirror image.
What will be your legacy?
What will be your final story?