Reflections mesmerize me, holding me hostage, occupying my attention for hours on end. Reflections of anything. Everything. Even myself.
This isn’t a narcissistic impulse. It’s me...trying to unravel a mystery and reconcile the madness. Trying to reconstruct the random fragments bombarding me from inside. Out. Constantly. Like a million unscrambled radio signals that no one else can hear.
Reflections are the physical manifestation of the chaos I swirl endlessly around with. And if I can piece them together - if I can match the colors to the feelings to the shapes of the memories - the edges just might soften and melt away. Then I might be whole again.
Safely inside myself.
Where I belong.