Farrago Of Mind

There was no gentle warmth to reach my unprepossessing existence; sombre waves of the frost-filled air began to encapsulate my body as I thought back to those who berated me, and called me sociopathic, reminding me of the humanity I lacked.

My eyes were fixated on the mundane ceiling and pitiful amounts of light shone into my room; detestable layers of unclean rubbish covered the once-wooden floor like an ocean of filth.

An essential framework seemed to have absconded from the prison of my conscience. It felt as though not even an ounce of my dissolved identity had remained. Slowly, the self-induced trance I was in had metamorphosed into a macrocosm. I had then been absorbed into the fields of my unconscious mind, in search for an answer, or a discovery.

The final piece to an incomplete puzzle of my identity was absent. Amalgamations of pure confusion had erupted and they were of indescribable nature, yet I felt not even the slightest of trepidation gazing at such iniquitous behemoths.

I had borne witness to iridescent colours that could have been unimaginable to any human.

Was this some inconceivable force that had influenced my mind? Was this me treading on thin ice, mere moments from falling into the crepuscular depths of insanity? Perhaps I had completely given up on those harsh responsibilities of life, and let go; as what I had perceived to be the natural ebb and flow of human nature would result in. What I had desired, or rather, what I had needed was nowhere in sight. Although contrasting to my own desires, there were consistent reminders notifying me about what seemed to be so chimeric.

An autonomous voice then broke through the psychedelic haze I had been ensnared by; it told me that my own name was forgotten. I had lacklustre emotions; they sullied a long-forgotten purpose which I somehow knew was essential.

The perplexed sensation I felt should have been aggravating, yet there was nothing I could imagine that would provoke such ardours. The mesmerising colours of the dreamscape had ceased and been replaced by monotonous shades of greys, simulating gaseous movements. It enveloped this illusory oblivion that my imperfect mind had constructed.

"What is your name?"

A bellowing voice echoed through the dreamscape as a torrent of wind flushed away the mundane greys and darkness that had surrounded me. I was now in a pure white expanse of ultimate nothingness. The only colouration present was from my own skin complexion and the eerie shadow I had cast on the ground. A low bass had rung through my bones and in complete synchronisation with the blinking of my eyes, a gigantic mirror materialised in front of me. However, the ominous reflection sneering back at me was unrecognisable.

"Who is that?" I had thought immediately upon gazing at this reflection. Cautiously, I etched my way towards this mendacious likeness that stared back at me. Perplexed, I then attempted to figure out the purpose of the reflection, inscrutable as it was, yet it felt completely impossible.

Unnatural: the ambience induced an ice-cold shiver that slid down the ridges of my spine. From what I had observed from the reflection, a vitriolic grin had revealed itself: "You have work to do. Do not forget your own purpose now."

I succumbed to disdain and anxiety that sweltered within my body. My pulse rapidly increased, as did my breathing rate. Stumbling in my own words, I asked, "Who are you?". As I hadn't foreseen, there was no reply. There was only solitude in the silence that manifested in this farrago of mind, supernaturally forged by this gargantuan mirror that stood before my eyes

Shortly afterwards, the tranquillity was interrupted by the irregular reflection's words: "Shouldn't you be asking yourself that question?" Violent quakes had then ensued, tearing through the fabric of this false reality. The mirror soon shattered into millions of miniscule shards, yet that daunting replication remained.

"Wake up," it screeched. The scream the figure had emitted was beyond the pale of endurance, and I howled sorrowfully as a result. Before any sense of reality had returned to my husk of a body, I shot up from my bed, wheezing; my eyes widened hastily when I had come to the realisation that I was not in that obscene dream-like landscape anymore. Wiping my sweat-drenched forehead, I rushed towards the mirror in the dust-ridden corner of my room and much to my dismay, it was what seemed to be a regular reflection. However, the facial features were difficult to identify.

The difficulty had then ceased and I could very much perceive a transparent reflection in the mirror.

It was absolutely clear to me. The inner-workings of my soul were visible. I could see what eluded me: euphoria, compassion, empathy, responsibility. These were qualities I had subconsciously rejected for no viable reason.

"Is this who I am? Is this who I should be?"

I veered away from the mirror and opened the curtains that imprisoned my bedroom in darkness. Harsh rays of light surprised me with colour and a blissful warmth that gently comforted my skin. That apparition or reflection remained a feat of bewilderment in my mind. As convoluted as it felt to me, that uncanny phantasm of depersonalisation had assisted in filling the void inside of me.

There was no need to be lackadaisical; this was redundant to me now. The superfluous void that had once dismantled the components of my own comfort and will, had been filled entirely with my own ebullient desire to cast out this deranged and empty feeling within.

As I stared out my window, I watched the sun rise behind the infinite horizon; my mind could not help but edge towards that figure again. Yet I did not think back to it with malice or distaste. I viewed it as a window of opportunity. The very strings of fate had pulled me out of that bottomless pit of pitiful triviality, where I had been devoid of my own identity.