3. Blinds and Mirrors, See For Yourself

Rays of ultraviolet seep through the blinds and I am awake. It is sunrise, but I have no plan. In fact, I haven’t even began. Sitting at the edge of my bed, like someone trying to get intimidate with their partner but too shy to speak so. I have no such said partner.

1. Place paper filter in brewer
2. Open pack of coffee
3. Pour in filter
4. Press brew switch
6. Let brew
7. Remove filter
8. Empty contents of filter into garbage
9. Pour and consume

It’s hot. Bitter. Watery. Should’ve just went to cafe? But I didn’t, and I needed this now. I didn’t want to change. I didn’t want to step out that door. I didn’t want people waving and saying good morning when I didn’t even sleep. I didn’t want to walk. But if I did, my cup of coffee wouldn’t be so...watery. But if I did, maybe I would be wondering what if I didn’t, and that I could’ve had the coffee I gravely needed 20 minutes earlier back at home. To go or not to go, to do or not to do, mundane questions that trouble me way too often. Decision making was never my specialty.

But today. Today, mundane questions do not trouble me. I drink my coffee. My consciousness is thick. My plan was to devise a plan. Then to follow the steps devised as if brewing a cup of coffee. Then pour and consume. Instead, I went off tangent, I wondered why coffee is bitter, why people drink it so often, and why I shouldn’t drink orange juice instead.

Everything is blue as the sun rises. Somebody forgot to white balance. Please remind God tomorrow. No, I am quite troubled. Sever this! He doesn’t need me and I don’t need him. He’s happy to be rid of me. But why does it burden my mind? Does it burden his? Surely not, not anymore. He despises me for being that burden. He despises my mother for leaving him. He despises me for reminding him of her. Surely my mother despised him. Why else would she leave? She didn’t love him anymore. She hates him. He was never there for her, like he was never there for me. I’m sure of it. He merely green-lighted my existence, because it was his duty to. There’s nothing to it. I hate him. I despise him.

My plan is complete. My plan is my mirror. My plan is shattered. The pieces, mingled...misplaced. Some further broken down, unidentifiable speckles that will never be restored. Yet they sparkle, and they reflect. Bits of me in every piece, big and small, a multitude of faces and eyes, fighting...to be gazed upon.

I look away. My knuckles bleed. My eyelids droop. My legs weaken and I stumble back. In the back of my head somewhere, free-floating, like a fragment of a broken asteroid, I scream. My body trembles as my mind shrieks. My father is my nothingness. Without him...I become void...ever-adrift. My consciousness will transcend my ego and detach, seeking a new able anima, abandoning emptiness.

What’s left...nothing.




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