Mirror

I want you to do something for me. You don’t know me personally but you’ve read my heart and soul through this computer screen and now I need you to do something for me. I need to you look at yourself in the mirror. But I need you to really¬†look. Grab a handheld mirror, get as close as you can to a mirror and look. And I want you to stare yourself right in the eyes. I want you to look at your eyes, the pupils and the iris. The way they meet and blend together. Look at the little swirls and loops of color. Your eyes are a galaxy, forgotten and unappreciated.

Why is it we look into the eyes of others and notice them, but we forget our own? I used to think my eyes were boring brown until I truly looked. And in them I saw a galaxy full of beauty. Almost other worldly. Almost. Perhaps? Just look.

My beautiful disaster.

I was 24 when I met him. From the across the bar he was the most perfect specimen I’d ever seen. Up close he was even more so. His smile ignited mine and from that moment on I’d forget what it meant to be alone. He was a beautiful disaster. A swirling of chords and notes that smashed into one another, creating a sort of chaotic free for all. For once in my life I could do what I wanted, and what I wanted was to be with him.

Reality hit shortly after. The blindness I had allowed to take over my life was soon healed. The veil was lifted from my eyes only to create the perfect storm of devastation and realization. What I thought was love was obsession. An obsession to not be alone. Alone I was nothing but a mess of nerves and anxiety. I was no one. With him I was something. I knew how to be around him. I was exactly who I thought he wanted me to be.

The drugs took over. His pupils, constantly dilated, looked at me with fear and longing. “Don’t leave me. I can change.” He’d say. “People don’t change…you’ve taught me that.” I said, as I sat in the Panamanian airport with him, feeling more alone than I’d ever felt before. Salty warm tears streamed down my face for all to see. People, see my vulnerability, feel my pain or laugh at it. It’s raw and it’s real. My heart breaking more and more with every painful thought of losing him.

“People don’t change.” I thought. As I flew miles and miles away from my beautiful disaster.