What he sees when he looks into the mirror. |
The air is heavy. My lungs slowly suck in steam. One long, laboring breath at a time. Water condenses on my skin. My hair drips into my eyes and down my face. The mirror stands in front of me, framing me from head to waist. I move a towel down its fogged up face. If this were a scene in a film Mike would say this particular framing turns the focus to the actor’s thoughts and emotions. I try to translate my thoughts into emotions into body language. I’m not thinking. I’m not feeling. Nothing translates into nothing. I stare at my eyes. Glazed and dead fish, bluish gray. Dilated pupils. I lean in closer. Close enough to see my breath on the glass. I try to look deeper. To see what's inside. Dead fish, bluish gray. Dilated pupils. Nothing else. I take a step back. There's a slight bump on the bridge of my nose. Barely shows, but it's there. The after-effect of a stupid thought... One where I got the impression for a fleeting second that my life had some value. I bring my hand up to it and press down. Hard. It doesn't hurt. I touch the bruise on my cheek. Carefully. It doesn't hurt. Harder. I can't feel a thing. I open the cabinet. Toothpaste. I unscrew the cap and squeeze some into my mouth. I don't know why. It doesn't taste like spearmint. Mouthwash, hair gel, Q-tips, a nail clipper, shaving cream. At least seven different bottles of pills. Advil. The others marked 'Michael'. They aren't mine. I don't open them. A razor and a pair of scissors. The blade isn't removable. I take the scissors, put them down, and close the cabinet. I pinch my forearm. Nothing. I put my hand on the edge of the sink and smash it as hard as I can with the other one. My entire body is numb. I grab the scissors. I hold them up, my hand still where it was, and bring them down, boring into my flesh. Blood. Nothing else. I drop the scissors into the sink. I turn on the cold water. I look back into the mirror. I'm pale. I lean in. My eyes... I look deep into the black and feel numb pain creep slowly up from my hand. I focus, zoning into the dark. A small glimmer of something... I don't know what, but something. That's all I needed. I feel better, I'm still human. I have toothpaste in my mouth. I spit. The white foam slips down the side of the sink and slowly gets swallowed by the water. Sucked in. I put my hand under the tap. Freezing. I wait for the bleeding to slow. I stare into the mirror, waiting. My hand should be hurting from the coldness of the water. I pinch my forearm again. I'm awake. I look at my hand. It's still there. I close the tap. |