glass, mirrors

Help me.

Help me, because I can’t stand myself.

I love being me. I hate being me.

Life without me is possible.

Life without me is not possible.

Can you imagine a constant fight with your mind?

Can you imagine asking questions, hundreds, thousands of questions,

desperately trying to find answers, but there are no answers?

She lives in me. I feel her under my skin. Sometimes I run to my room 

and I close the door as fast as I can, but she always manages to come in. 

I stand very close to the wall, actually, my back is a part of it; 

but still I know she’s behind me, and if I only turned back I would see her laughing at me.

I have a ring made of black glass. I like glass. And I like black. Black mirrors are everywhere. 

But my soul is made of obsidian.

What can you see in the mirror which reflects another mirror? Our life is an illusion. 

Don’t try to get to the initial image; it isn’t there. 

What can I see in your eyes which reflect mine? We are an illusion.

I’ve always thought that the eyes of fear are wide open, but I was wrong. 

The fear always squints its eyes, the eyes as yellow as yours.

She wolf awakes from time to time. When it’s time to hunt, she bares her fangs.