Author: blueagle246 PM
Reflections are a funny thing. Review!Rated: Fiction T - English - Angst/Tragedy - Words: 1,040 - Reviews: 2 - Published: 09-11-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3057566
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
It's funny what reflections show. Mine shows a young man with jet black hair, bright blue eyes, and smile that could light up a dark room. In my younger days I used to practice speeches here in front of this mirror. I would just start with my name, "Hello, my name is Jackson Rummer." I would repeat this over and over, trying different methods, adjusting my smile slightly, doing whatever I thought of to improve the way I looked. I would eventually go on to give the entire speech once I was comfortable enough with the way I looked. I could practice for hours if that is what it took to get it perfect. Maybe that is why I have created such a fantastic facade.
I just stare at the mirror for what seems like hours. Reminiscing about when my reflection actually held truth to it. Back when my mom was alive to crack some stupid corny joke to try and defuse a tense situation. How she would constantly call me in the bathroom early in the morning to brush her neck length blonde hair for her. Being an only child I had to take the role as a daughter as well. At the time I despised it, but now I just want it back. I miss everything, but the thing I miss the most about her is her eyes. Everybody always said I got her eyes, but I never believed them, still don't. Her eyes were a bright blue like mine, but with a key difference, hers showed love, compassion, understanding, and experience. They had this inviting look that made it impossible to lie to her. I don't have those eyes. My eyes are only filled with sorrow and regret.
Her death probably wouldn't affect me this bad if she wasn't the only family I had. My dad walked out on us before I was born, leaving me nothing except he dark hair. He was the reason my mom had to work two shifts to get by. He was the reason no one ever showed up to my baseball games. He walked out and left nothing but sorrow in his wake. And yet through everything, my mom had the strength to stand up and take life by the reigns. She refused to let this get her down. She laughed, she smiled, and she meant it. She was one of the strongest people I ever met, but even she couldn't overcome death. Even in her last moments she kept asking how I was holding up living with my aunt. She never cared about herself, only me.
My Aunt Tammy was nice enough. She helped me through school and even helped me pay my way through college, but we clashed and we clashed often. She just didn't understand how I was feeling. She couldn't relate because she and my mom were never very close, being seven years apart means you don't exactly share a lot of common interests. She didn't go through the same pain I had to go through, so she didn't understand how to help me. I have to give her props for trying though I suppose. She was always there telling me things were going to be okay, but it just didn't help. It wasn't in my mother's voice.
College thankfully was relatively easy. Besides all the usual drama it was one of the easier times in my life. I didn't have to be social; I just went to my room and spend the entire day after classes there. I just said I was busy and people left me alone. I wish things were still this easy. I wish I didn't have to interact with people who are always trying to be my friend. Don't they get by the constant rejections I don't want any friends? I can't exactly make it any more obvious besides flat out saying it, and I would do that, but then that would lead to question and just more annoying people. I would rather people not got poking around in my life.
I know that my mother would not want this for me, and that make it that much harder to keep up the facade. But, I can't stand it. I can't stand looking at all the happy faces, or little kids walking hand in hand with their parents. Why do they get to have all the things I have been denied? Why do they get to be happy while I wallow in my self pity? I know I shouldn't have these thoughts. I know they are wrong. But I can't help it. They just keep swimming around like leeches trying to attach and suck the life out of me. I try to block them out, and send anyone who looks my way one of my bright signature smiles. Every day I can feel it getting harder and harder to smile. The rage builds just a little bit more every day.
Tears fall form my face leaving little wet trails the sparkle in the light of the room. They fall slowly at first, hitting the grounds with small plops. But the soon turn into full out sobbing. Why can't I be happy? Why did my mom have to die? Out of every one in the world whey did it have to be her? Every time I ask this question I hope for some answer to magically come to me from the heavens. But it never happens. I am always left with the same emptiness. The same quite house. No angels descending from the heavens with a message from my mother explaining why all this happened. Just the sound of sobbing.
Reflections are a funny thing. Mine tells me that people see me as a man with bright blue eyes and jet black hair. But that is all reflections can show. They don't show the inner turmoil I suffer. They don't show the hell I put myself through day after day. People think they know me just because they have seen me. They are all fools. No one knows what I go through. And if I can help it, they never will. They can go on with their happy lives while I suffer.