The Mirror of the Mind

Packing up of possessions.

The pink frilly tutus, black lace dresses, brocade corsets, rainbow fluffies and lingerie.

So many items. So many memories.

The key ring with us screaming like children from the funfair at Christmas, the stuffed teddy bear found stranded like the squished and rotting brie  at the Masquerade ball, the heart of the ocean that you slipped around my neck.

The books and graphic novels spouting legends, nightmares, myths.

The Cthulhu pearl necklace, the fox skull fascinator, the custom designed latex dress.

The items we shell ourselves in, adorn ourselves like preening peacocks, screeching for attention.


All of it lost now, being packed into the same brown cardboard boxes, the glitter and glory remaining a secret within.

The films I have collected over the past four years will be useless to me across the ocean made ofAlice’s tears. Who won the dodo’s game, in the end? I cannot remember.

Soon gone will be the nights spent dancing till dawn, the friends who became family and the lovers…the heartbreaks and heartbreakers.

All of it abandoned as alone, I stand facing the enemy, ready to fight. I am not armed, my weapons have been purposely abandoned as I face my foe, naked and shivering on this small astral island on the ocean of tears.

The moon casts a spotlight over me as I look up, scared but determined as a red velvet curtain whooshes to my front, daring me to peek behind.

“Who are you?” I shout, but the wind eats away at my words, as if they had been spoken not at all.

On and on we stand, me and the curtain, and I refuse to move, waiting for him, for IT to strike.

As the hours pass, and the purple and gold bands take over the horizon, I consider turning back, retreating into the familiar ocean of this island of tears. Taking comfort in the soothing well of misery, that endless pit I knew only too well.

But no. Something in me stands strong. I have come all this way, trawled the circus we call life, fought the lions, got caught in the maze several times, painted the white roses red using the blood of my passion. Spend half a decade in a funhouse and you know that once you decide to leave, there is no turning back.

So as the sun rises over the surface and it is still me and the rich ruby curtain, I reach out and with trembling hands find IT.

IT is not a marine monster, many tentacles extending to choke me where I stand.

IT is not a great green glob of mucus and slime, seeking me out for suffocation.

IT is not a giant monkey, or monster yet unknown to man.

IT is not even a man or woman itself, dagger poised, ready to lunge into the fragile yet still-beating organ inside my sternum.

IT is a magnificent mirror, full length and dripping with diamonds that catch glare from the nowmiddaysun, causing purple dots to dance in front of my eyes.

The framework is exquisite, the craftsmanship, flawless. It is priceless, a work of art whose beauty withstands monetary value and the test of time.

But it is no ordinary looking glass. For floating on the island shimmering before me is the greatest foe of all:

The Mirror of the Mind.

For reflected within, a mortal can be trapped staring at their failures, doubts and insecurities. It can become lost in the woods of rejection, thrown into the lap of sadistic decadence, forever lost to the bleak black hole of depression. The Mirror does not reflect our bodies, those physical shells so easy so abandoned if one cares to look deeper. The Mirror shows not the party frocks and frilly fantasies, but only the truth reflected on that shining silver service.

And run and hide as you might, go to the clubs and faeries grottos, sip the magic potion or inhale that intoxicating pixie dust, The Mirror is always there, omnipresent, waiting for you to tug the gold tassled handle, rip away that scarlet covering and reveal…..


But as I face The Mirror’s gaze, I stride forward on shaky legs, not feeling the soles of my feet burn on that hot island sand, nor the sunburn turning my white shoulders pink, even the hunger, the lust, the desire, all has faded as I now stand, my face inches away from the glass, fingertips lightly touching the surface.

And no longer am I afraid, anxious and scared, for although those feelings will always arise and be reflected in The Mirror, there is something else, something greater.

There is my strength, to overcome all obstacles and achieve what is just. There is my hope, for one day creating the beauty I crave in others. There is the kindness, and compassion, and the love for the people I must leave behind, and of those I have yet to encounter. But the greatest orb I see reflected in The Mirror is that of strength, of the fortitude to carry on, no matter how big a giant or how slimy a worm stands in my path.

And no matter how scared I am of facing the other, darker aspects of The Mirror inside, I press my fingers harder as the glass transforms into a swirling vortex and I step in, tears rolling down my cheeks but a smile hovering over my lips.

I don’t know exactly where my journey may lead, or for how long it may take.

I might end up lost once again in the ocean of tears, but this time flying high above the continents, exploring cities both new and villages of old.

But I do know this:

Every word of advice or wisdom my loved ones have imparted on me will stay close, lodged into my heart. Sometimes you need a tough and bitter draft of wind to accept the truth, even if at the time you may not have wanted to hear it.

Your support, cuddles and love mean more to me than all of the diamonds dripping down The Mirrors frame.

Please think back on me sometime, if only fleetingly, and remember.

And in doing so, my strength will grow ever stronger, and soon I will be able to face The Mirror proudly, and without fear.

Perhaps I will see you there.

3 Responses to “The Mirror of the Mind”

  1. I have to say; I love your blog. Just stumbled across it today, but couldn’t stop reading. You have a way with words. I, too, am from ‘the scene’ so maybe I’ll see you around sometime if you still are. 🙂

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