Friday, October 06, 2006

Flash Fiction: The Other



The Other

I confront the mirror, but my other self simply stares back, blank, detached.

It has always been this way.

I curse, gesticulate, am animated in my objections, my questions, my discontent. I wear suffering as a fine garment, draping myself in sackcloth and ashes.

But he quietly stands there, serene, seemingly at peace.

I construct stories, rationalize choices, demand some acknowledgment of my efforts, my wounds. I puff up my chest to hide my fears and doubts.

Year after year, I age, suffer the injustices of time. Gray hair thickens around my temples. I fight the clock and know I am always losing.

He is unchanged, unmoved. It has always been this way.

There is something about his eyes, some frustrating depth of kindness that calms me even when I hate his aloofness. His constant presence keeps me anchored, feels like being submerged in baptismal over and over again.

I feel that he knows me . . . .


2 comments:

Candy Minx said...

Hey, hi, cool blog...enjoying reading along.

Cheers
Candy
http://gnosticminx.blogspot.com/

william harryman said...

Thanks, Candy.

Your blog is cool, too -- I added it to my feeds.

Peace,
Bill