Mirror

I have some symptoms, like rapid weight loss, and pushing people away;
Also, being tired, slurred speech and lately, some abdominal pain.
I don't recognize the person I see in the looking glass.
A friend of mine asks me if I'm doing drugs.
Nah, I don't do drugs, so I guess I'm ok.
She wants to know what's going on.
I don't know.
She's scared now.
I laugh,
I don't know what's wrong.
It must have something to do with me,
I want to be so much more, so much more than I am.
She asks me to go to the doctor and get myself checked out.
I laugh again,
I tell her it will be ok,
I'll be ok, not to worry, though I immediately realize that I don't believe it myself.
She's very concerned and thinks I won't be alright... She offers to take me to a doctor herself.
I thank her but turn down her generous offer.
I look in peoples’ eyes and see nothing,
It's sad sometimes,
All I wish for is a little joy, maybe a tiny ray of hope in them.
My efforts to find such a pair of eyes are in vain.
Every day I walk by the train station.
Every day I see similar sets of eyes looking at me...
Eyes full of grief, tears dry, cheeks swollen.
I walk past that everyday, similar eyes but the same look.
A little child always runs up to me begging for alms.
I give him a little change and send him away.
I'd like to recognize his face, but for some reason, it is always indistinct, like a hazy neon sign in the fog.
His eyes look at me with a painful innocence; all he wants to do is eat another meal.
An array of questions pours from my heart, questions that were tucked away in a safe place a long time ago.
Abashed, broken, and chagrined, I can't stop myself;
"Why does everything remind me of my childhood? Why do I see myself in those eyes? Why does everything have to be about me? Why…?  Why…? Why does sadness bring out the best in every author?”
She hasn't any answers, but she is quick to say that I'm freaking her out.
I laugh, "I'm being creative, shush now."
She walks away.
The story goes on....