16 June 2012
It was the early hours of the morning when he awoke, his eyes flickered open slowly as his mind gradually caught up with the shift in environment - the memory of the world in his head fading as the cold curtain of reality descended on him like a dark shroud. He let out a long breath and closed his eyes once more, grasping to get back into the only place he felt like be belonged - but the sights and sounds that were so sharp and real a moment ago seemed to slide out of his mind like wisps of smoke. He sighs and opens his eyes once more, turning his head to squint at the glaring red bulbs of the bedside clock. 4:42am - hardly worth going back to sleep.
He throws the covers aside and swings his legs over the side of the bed, blinking some of the tiredness from his eyes and trying to discern the shapes in the darkness of his bedroom. He sways a little as he stands but he has no need to turn on any of the lights, for he knows the layout of his own home well enough to make his way to the bathroom without incident. The carpet beneath his bare feet gives way to the cold tiles and he runs his fingertips along the wall until they grasp the thin cord of the pull light. He holds the cord in his hand, and faces what he knows to be the full length mirror that adorns the wall next to the sink. He stares at the blurred dark outline of his shape, squinting slightly to distort the image. He takes a sharp inhale of breath and yanks on the bathroom cord - breaking the final connection to the illusion he had tried so hard to retain.
The woman in the mirror was fairly tall, about 5'8" and athletically slender. She had a larger muscle structure then what was considered average by modern standards and she stood naked save for a pair of grey boxer shorts. Her blonde hair was short, flat for the moment due to sleeping, shaved from the bottom and long on the top - her face was round but beautiful, adorned by two large green eyes which reflected back to him all the sorrow he felt upon seeing his reflection.
He tightens his grip on the light cord, longing to cast himself back into the darkness where his eyes can't show him the truth of it - but instead he forces himself to linger there in the false hope that the illusion will dissipate. He raises his free hand to his cheek, and watches at the woman in the mirror does the same, raking a thin line across the skin in pure revulsion.
Click. The light is turned off and he storms from the bathroom back into bed, pulling the covers right up over his head - another hour, one more hour of the world where he can be himself.
Upon Reflection • Opuss № I