Ghost In The Mirror

"..I held the pieces of my soul,
I was shattered,
and I wanted you to make me whole.."

Dear lonely isle,

Just recently I looked in the mirror and the person who looked back was not a person I recognise. The more I stared, the more I realised the person I see is not someone I want to be.
But that's me.
This person is a selfish, self-centred bitch and I wish I could throw a brick at her.
But that's me.
I don't like what I see in the mirror. I see a reflection of myself, and like a once peaceful lake I have always believed in, suddenly turned stagnant, ugly, devoid.
But that's me.
I want to scream at that person and tell her to go to hell, but I do not.
Because that's me.
I want to bring back the spark in my life, the twinkle in my eye, the warmth of my heart, the love in my soul, but only barren wasteland stretches before me. I see emptiness and dirt and dust and pollution.
But that's me.
I want to go home, to the place and person I know, but the road upon I look is cold, unknown. I set down the path, but soon I am lost. The trail leads to nowhere. A cliff at the finishing line. A deep inviting chasm. It speaks of salvation, forgiveness and absolution. I look back. It's dark and shadows seep into every corner.
But that's me.
Reaching out into the void once more I travel, only to find myself looking in the mirror again. Come back to where you are. I turn. Behind me is a figure, of lost and broken dreams, of sorrow and woe. She holds out a hand. Her sad eyes betray her emotions.
But that's me.
Everytime I look in the mirror I see me. The person I was, the person I am, the person I long to be. This time I see something I wish I wasn't.

But that's me.

love, joyce.