It's Saturday. Another week has gone by. You get home and sip a little of the whiskey bottle, which has been looking at you all week. You're at peace, content and understand what needs to be done. Your first sip feels like lava on your throat. It burns a 1000 times before it enters your stomach.
With every sip, the bad taste fades away. The whiskey starts entering your blood stream and you feel a warm glow on your face. You are no longer yourself and what you've been burying in the back of your mind is coming affront.
Despair sets in. Why haven't you called your parents to say hi? Where are your siblings? Have you even wondered how they are? Your heart sinks. Why have you placed yourself in this reality? What went wrong? You want to desperately cry and melt into a ball of death and darkness.
Nothing makes sense and you are no longer a spark of light. You can't take the pain and anxiety any longer. You make your way to the bathroom to brush your teeth. This night must end.
The mirror in front of you is staring back at you.
Who is this person looking back at you? Who is this stranger glaring at you? You can't believe what you see. You ask yourself, "can I take this face off?". You touch your face. Your hands become a wise being older than yourself. Your hands tell you that it's you and no one else. The footsteps of all your stories and the color of the misery you've created.
The mirror asks, "weren't you the one who wanted to catch the sun?". Panic sets in and you break the mirror into a thousand pieces. You are now surrounded with countless reflections of yourself. And a thousand jagged eyes stare back at you and say, "the eyes of hope must be cut from your sky. The days are like this from here on end. They all smell of sulfur and hopelessness."
A peace sets in and you accept this fate.