(no subject)
On this very night as the rain falls elegantly upon rose bushes and pristine lakes, there is a lost soul belonging to a man no older than thirty. There was a time in his life when he found the gray clouds full of angry tears a blessing. A time when he considered the miserable weather as heaven sent. An act of God to show that he too, like all human kind, comes full of emotions, heartache and even mood swings.
Yet on this particular night, our subject at hand had been hoping to look to the stars, to find a path, a direction, destination that would lead to mending his frail and bruised heart.
It had been three hours since he had confined himself in this room with the cold, bitter tiles that sent a cold chill from the pads of his bare feet to his spine. Three hours of the constant dripping resounding in his ear drums from the leaking faucet. Although this never really registered in his mind.
Three hours of starring into the eyes of his own worst enemy. Himself. Although one would ponder how he could see his own reflection when there was no visible light. You see light was not needed for the man could mentally envision himself. Lost, broken, confused.
If the stars and moon were shining brightly into the room right now, his glistening cheeks would confuse you into believing that this tough-shelled beauty had simply splashed water onto his paled face, hoping for the color to soon return. Unfortunately, assuming this would be far from the truth.
One small flick of a tongue over his lips would result with a hint of salt. Tears.
Tears, which caused swollen cheeks, sunken eyes. Tears, which caused this mornings eyeliner to dissolve to nothing. Never before in his life had he felt so many emotions all at once. Anger, pain, and hurt. Really, they could all be one emotion. Yet each of the said emotions comes with a different aspect, each with a definition of their own.
Anger. Anger for being so ‘stupid’, for fooling himself over something that deep within he knew could never happen. Not even on the movie screens or in cheesy romance novels.
Pain. Caused by his words and actions.
Hurt. The mental strains which lead to physical strains. The starting point of this scenario.
Wrapping his arms tightly around his waist, he realizes that this is his own fault. No one else is to blame. He curses. Doubles over as sobs from deep within his chest and throat threaten to escape. Chest is tightening as he struggles to breathe.
Suddenly all his frustrations and anger strikes boiling point. At the blink of an eye, warm moisture can be felt upon the knuckles of his right hand. He collapses to the floor in a mess of tears, blood and shards of the now broken mirror. Broken just like his mirror image.
Rolling onto his side, his gaze seeks the solitary window. Ignoring the sharp sensations that are penetrating his skin, he sighs deeply. The tears quickly fade.
Stars are now coating the silky horizon. The shattered mirror and the wounds it caused forgotten.
Now, he smiles. He realizes all isn’t as bad as it seems. That like the weather, you can’t control whom you love.
After all, he hadn’t planned on fucking up the most important aspect of his life.
He hadn’t planned on falling for his twin.
End.