First Post
A towering pavilion of light stands before me. Its brilliance lies not in its intensity but in its shimmering waves, a thousand secrets muttered in a million tongues crashing over my body in the form of photons. I can feel its glory and its age seeping through my skin, and I know I am meant to bow. To break. This thing expects no mere man to behold it and not achieve either madness or transcendence, assuming they are different. Instead,
“Huh. Where’d that come from?”
I am confused. Did I take a wrong turn going to the bathroom? Even if I did, why would there be a primordial beacon of power in Natalie’s apartment building? The super doesn’t even fix stuff in a prompt matter.
“None of my business. I’ll just be on my way then.”
As I turn to leave, I realize that the old stains on the walls have disappeared. And hey, so have the walls. In fact, I seem to now exist in void, only two objects keeping me company. The first at my back is the aforementioned primal scream of a dying god frozen into light. The other is the mirror below me.
Disappointingly, it does not stretch out like the sea, vast beyond my comprehension. Instead, it more closely resembles the full length mirror I know Natalie keeps in her closet. Not that I’ve seen the inside of her closet mind you. That would be a creepy invasion of privacy. It’s just, you know, she’s a girl, so I assume.
“hem”
Nothing like an awkward cough to get my mind off unfortunate tangents. Like Natalie and her closet with the special drawer second from the bottom where she kee-
“hem hem”
Yes, I expected better from this void. Although, now that I have made the mistake of looking down into the mirror, I see that it reflects everything I have ever been or ever will be, its silvered glass somehow capturing all the boundless magnificence and ultimate insignificance that is my humanity.
“Man, I should have taken better care of my skin in high school.”
Behind me, the radiance of a thousand souls as seen through smoked glass switches from shimmering to angry pulsing. I can fill its desire to pour through me, pierce every fiber of my being and shine forth, ultimately erasing me in a torrent of light and pain.
Suddenly, I remember that I wanted to leave, and anyway, I really should be brushing my teeth. I take a step to go, only to find that the void does not support me. Huh. I thought supporting was what metaphysical voids did.
I fall.
I fall for a long time. The mirror that I thought at my feet instead lies endlessly below. It is vast, after all.
I am not feeling much inner peace. The frantic screaming and flailing might provide onlookers a clue. I don’t know. I’m not an onlooker. My reflection is. It stares back at me placidly. Serene, almost welcoming. Why?
Impact. The mirror does not shatter. I do not die. I sink, merge. I feel wrongly whole, overly complete. The light does not matter. It is so far gone and so insignificant in the face of a me more me than any me is meant to be.
I open my mouth to laugh through the bubbly quicksilver of the mirror.
And I wake up.
“Ow ow ow ow.”
Jesus my head hurts. I promise myself for the thousandth time not to drink with George and Natalie at the same time. Adding the petty urge to compete with George to the petty urge to impress Natalie adds up to an utterly slashed me. I don’t mind being drunk, but the morning after is another matter.
I stumble to the sink and splash some water on my face. I need to wake up so I can make coffee and eggs and not be all hangovery. I’m so intent on forming my brilliant anti-hangover plan that I fail to notice how the only symptom of a hangover I actually have is the headache.
After drying my face, I glance at the mirror. I like to look myself in the eye and dare myself to have a good day in the mornings. There’s just one problem today.
“Where did my reflection go?”
“Huh. Where’d that come from?”
I am confused. Did I take a wrong turn going to the bathroom? Even if I did, why would there be a primordial beacon of power in Natalie’s apartment building? The super doesn’t even fix stuff in a prompt matter.
“None of my business. I’ll just be on my way then.”
As I turn to leave, I realize that the old stains on the walls have disappeared. And hey, so have the walls. In fact, I seem to now exist in void, only two objects keeping me company. The first at my back is the aforementioned primal scream of a dying god frozen into light. The other is the mirror below me.
Disappointingly, it does not stretch out like the sea, vast beyond my comprehension. Instead, it more closely resembles the full length mirror I know Natalie keeps in her closet. Not that I’ve seen the inside of her closet mind you. That would be a creepy invasion of privacy. It’s just, you know, she’s a girl, so I assume.
“hem”
Nothing like an awkward cough to get my mind off unfortunate tangents. Like Natalie and her closet with the special drawer second from the bottom where she kee-
“hem hem”
Yes, I expected better from this void. Although, now that I have made the mistake of looking down into the mirror, I see that it reflects everything I have ever been or ever will be, its silvered glass somehow capturing all the boundless magnificence and ultimate insignificance that is my humanity.
“Man, I should have taken better care of my skin in high school.”
Behind me, the radiance of a thousand souls as seen through smoked glass switches from shimmering to angry pulsing. I can fill its desire to pour through me, pierce every fiber of my being and shine forth, ultimately erasing me in a torrent of light and pain.
Suddenly, I remember that I wanted to leave, and anyway, I really should be brushing my teeth. I take a step to go, only to find that the void does not support me. Huh. I thought supporting was what metaphysical voids did.
I fall.
I fall for a long time. The mirror that I thought at my feet instead lies endlessly below. It is vast, after all.
I am not feeling much inner peace. The frantic screaming and flailing might provide onlookers a clue. I don’t know. I’m not an onlooker. My reflection is. It stares back at me placidly. Serene, almost welcoming. Why?
Impact. The mirror does not shatter. I do not die. I sink, merge. I feel wrongly whole, overly complete. The light does not matter. It is so far gone and so insignificant in the face of a me more me than any me is meant to be.
I open my mouth to laugh through the bubbly quicksilver of the mirror.
And I wake up.
“Ow ow ow ow.”
Jesus my head hurts. I promise myself for the thousandth time not to drink with George and Natalie at the same time. Adding the petty urge to compete with George to the petty urge to impress Natalie adds up to an utterly slashed me. I don’t mind being drunk, but the morning after is another matter.
I stumble to the sink and splash some water on my face. I need to wake up so I can make coffee and eggs and not be all hangovery. I’m so intent on forming my brilliant anti-hangover plan that I fail to notice how the only symptom of a hangover I actually have is the headache.
After drying my face, I glance at the mirror. I like to look myself in the eye and dare myself to have a good day in the mornings. There’s just one problem today.
“Where did my reflection go?”