My Broken Mirror…

“If I wished to have everything negative wiped from memory. I would have forgotten what I wished for.” Me

My mirror is broken, and still, my reflection is accurate. Key moments throughout my lifetime, shared with each shard of glass. Some I wish were tinted. My insecurity heightens as the congress of eyes focus in the direction of a man seeking no attention. Past attention wasn’t always kind to me. Before me, the weight lost years ago… clearly-still visible. One piece shows the little boy with a big head, soft voice and a walk to match. Teased for being smart, the gift of intellect felt like a curse. Another shard depicts a carefree teen filled with loads of aspirations next to a present me wondering if he will ever achieve them. I have tried to follow in the footsteps of my ancestors, only to stop and wish that my feet would grow bigger.

Moments create laughs, experiences drop tears and smiles hide stories. Once upon a time when my confidence was in its infancy; a kid born to stand out was dying to fit in. I didn’t lack friends and my “cool” was self-proclaimed. Moments of shyness were not because of my inability to speak; I didn’t want to be bothered. Words can make the mouth a dangerous firearm. Observation lessened the ammo that could later be used against me. Easily the my company could become a firing squad directed at me . Give me the stick and stones any day. When they said “words can never hurt me” there I sat in the background calling them all liars. The jokes were funny to them… not me.  As they laughed, I conjured up an occasional smile. A childish way of seeking acceptance. Once in a while the attention was re-directed to another to take focus off of me. Sadly, the ones closest  fell victim. Even though I was there to pick them up. I should have never let them take the fall. But when the spotlight focused on me, the personality shining from within couldn’t compete with its glow. You could see me frantically searching for shadows to hide among. There were none and I had to perform. The act was over once the act was over. No limo to take me home, just loving parents unbeknownst to what happened to me in school today.

Whoever said “what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger” was correct. But surviving doesn’t always mean you are living, smiling doesn’t always mean you are happy and people will only see the tears run… when you can’t. While entangled in your safety net of silence, only you can hear cries for help. Not all memories are pleasant. Some haunt me as if my past were deceased. Even though they pale in comparison, in contrast my dark moments remain as vivid as the bright ones. One could say they are equally important. I don’t agree but began to learn to balance the two.

Time alone is an amazing tutor. However much my exterior changed my interior remained. My personality could never do a pushup nor did it ever need to. People with blurred vision should never provide insight. Why, When they walk away, their burdens become yours and you are left to carry the two. Some of my flaws are nothing more than their tatted viewpoints…worn by me. And they have grown with me. Leaving me a work of art. Not because im a masterpiece but because some of my days are spent attempting to master peace.

Your past may dictate your future but you do not always have to listen. Their chatter only gained attention when my conscious was too self-conscious to speak up. We, agreed to piece myself together and there came a day when he and I, once again stood face to face. This time our greeting was different. The boy in front of me faced the man he had become. There was no exchange of shaken hands, spoken words or flaws to fixate upon. We focused on us -thus beginning to see eye to eye. A mutual respect was given to what was mutually reflected. The chip remains but the weight on our shoulders were lifted away. As as we began to walk away, he and I smirked. We didn’t realize this earlier  but now it was clear to see. That mirror was never broken… all this time… it was me.


'My Broken Mirror…' have 4 comments

  1. February 1, 2013 @ 3:12 am Triann

    I’m reading this for a second time, I wanted or needed to take the rest in aftet being overcome with a range of emotions: sadness, imagining a scared child being constantly belittled, anger at the wickedness of the other children, righteousness indignation towards the system that turned a blind eye, confusion as to why you didn’t tell anyone, your parents or another adult could have spared some of the heartache…questions, more questions that beg answers.

    So, I read it again and understand you’ve accepted it, and acknowledged it is a part of who you are, this is true. And maybe for the first time I understand the saying, “beauty can be found in the truth”… I see how beauty can be found in owning the truth; the truth is ours. Yet it is not mine to question why; instead, I would like to offer a few brief comments:

    Your writing is powerful and heartfelt and has the ability to evoke strong emotions from your readers and engage them into the story.

    Such a brave little one, such a brave young person; such a proud little one taking the weight of the world upon your shoulders, such a wise young person to know you didn’t have to bear the weight of the world on your shoulders. May the lightened load allow you to continue freely along the path to your future endeavors!

    Thank you for sharing…kudos!


    • February 8, 2013 @ 2:49 am writehiswrongs

      Thank you. I’ve always believe that adults are just big kids and it’s important to looking back on what shaped you into the person you have become. I did not have a negative childhood only some negative moments that have stuck with me even as I’ve tried to forget. I’m thankful for both good and bad experiences because I’m not sure who I would be without the two. I appreciate your comment and thank you for reading. I hope all is well on your side.


  2. February 9, 2013 @ 9:45 am triciaanns

    Well put, I can relate to that. In fact I’m laughing to myself thinking back on my childhood which like you described yours good, but I was very small and when I stood in line it would be forever, like I was invisible…I didn’t grow much, but don’t cut me in line, lol. And I was teased with all the short people named and jokes and I think it probably made me more fiesty and quick on my feet , lol.

    But oh can the mean things others say and do stick in the mind. My sister was an overweight teenager and she used to cry about being constantly being rejected by mostly boys and she remembered every boy who called her names and disrespected her and when she grew into a beautiful young she ignored their attention and reminded them how they used to treat her. She’s somewhat of a crusader for the underdog and a sensitive and caring person.

    You’re right, we take the good and the bad and it all rolls up to shape who we are and how we view the world around us. So I’m still rolling along trying to keep it all in perspective, and things aren’t the best but I have faith and look forward to better days; and trying to keep moving forward. I hope this finds you well and look forward to your next piece.

    Peace & Blessings


  3. July 3, 2014 @ 3:54 pm All Smiles

    I read an article the other day that stated that we are all “adults recovering from our childhood” and I think in doing so we have been taught to dismiss our feelings and pretend they do not exist.

    This blog speaks to the very core of our hearts and the mind state of one who just wants to be loved.

    “A childish way of seeking acceptance.”
    “words can never hurt me.”
    “Time alone is an amazing tutor.”

    Perhaps the litany of our undaunted journeys is to be an ever evolving butterfly repeating each step until we become our best selves. The intimate ransom we involve ourselves makes us not care about our brokenness. We are reflections of God and the more we begin to remind ourselves of our greatness by allowing love into us, the more we are able to create our healing.

    Love and Light,

    Still your biggest Fan

    All Smiles


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