We face each other confused, I in denial, it in fear. Fear of how I abuse and neglect it trying to break free from the mind chock hold it had me in.
"I thought you got over this, I thought we got over this." It says floating across from me on top of a grey sullen me. I face myself in the mirror and see a whole other me. I feel disgusted.
My skin is dull, eyes hanging low with absolutely nothing to look forward to. Hair untamed with absolutely no direction just like my scattered brain. My bare skin drooping from my bone marrow. I look lifeless.
Is this what everyone sees? Me with a dark cloud over my head. Before I could see it but now I don't. Why does it take someone else to pick it out for me to notice?
Have I become accustomed and comfortable with it that I allowed it back into my life?
It's back again but I'm not allowing it to stay this time. It abruptly returns startled. Begone bad omen.
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