Today is, well would've been my mother’s 58th birthday... and the passing of this day and has given me a myriad of emotions. I used to wonder when she was alive where she was, who she was with, was she thinking about her children? I always felt the passing of this day, no matter where I was, no matter what I was doing. Recently I have been feeling that when I look in the mirror I see her looking back at me, and the glitter of my tears reflects the sadness of what I am not dealing with.
Have you ever really paid attention to your reflection? Not your hair, clothes, or even that annoying pimple you can’t pop or cover up with make-up, but deeper... inside the depths of your eyes where all your secrets lie and the true you that is lurking right beneath the surface. I bet most of you haven’t, or maybe just a small percentage, and some of you have noticed those small traits passed onto you from your parents. Maybe you love them, maybe you don’t like them, or maybe your so-so on the matter.
For me it feels like my reflection is her. Hell I had to change my hair to feel different. I want to not be her. I want to look at my reflection and just feel like me... and not want to always break it so that the pain will stop.
I don’t see her anymore... although I do hear her in my laugh, she is there in my pale skin complexion, and her DNA is my DNA, her darkness is my darkness... but her legacy is not mine. What I choose to do next is my own, and I choose to walk towards the light.
“Oh my dear don’t you know?“
”You might be shattered,”
”But even broken glass still glitters in the light”