An experiemental piece of work

I open my eyes to initial darkness. I sense a light switch within reach, but my movement is limited, for I am glued to the floor. It is the floor of my on bedroom that holds me hostage. My eyes adjust to the darkness and I am able to sense the light of a lone candle. It is only illuminating to what is in my surrounding space. The scent is of pomegranate, and although familiar, it only increases my anticipation and fear. The eyes are the only way of knowing. I make out my bed, my furniture, and other material items, but nothing is in reach. The bones in my feet have begun to mesh with the wood in the floor. My feet have now sunken into the ground and I am placed without mobility. I listen for the faintest sound, but there is nothing. I am left to my inevitable silence.

A door resides in front of my presence, and placed upon the door is a full body length mirror. I am forced to gaze back at my reflection. Is it real? I begin to watch the reflection dance and flicker due to the light of the pomegranate candle. My right arm swiftly and effortlessly lifted to the glass in one fluid motion. My finger reaches out to touch the image reflected in the glass, and upon experiencing contact the image begins to glow. I continue to gaze, and I subconsciously bite my lower lip. The image in the glass does not repeat my action, but instead begins to grimace as blood now drips from her lip.

The glowing image with blood trickling down its lip instills a distinct emotion. I trace the outline of myself as a child. I am alone and an open gash on my upper thigh prohibits my movement. The blood has instilled a lasting fear that will never leave me. It is quiet, and I begin to cry. I cry because of pain and I cry because I am alone. I want nothing more than for another human being to be with me. I need to grasp a hand, to hear a voice, to smell something other than my own blood. I am wet from my tears and my leg is soaking in the thick red water. I desire a mothers touch and without it the pain intensifies.

It was my sister that came to my rescue, my sister. I flash forward and the roles have reversed. The room is crowded and I am facing the wall. My own hand is intertwined with my sisters, but my eyes are unable to glace behind to view the birth and beginning of creation. As I grasp her hand within my own I can sense the pain and energy being drained into my palm. There are connections to memories that I have never before noticed. My fear of blood, my desire and need for physical touch, and my need for love. It all begins to make unusual sense, but I still desperately need something more, for I am internally empty.

After the intensity settles and I am finally left to myself, I walk to the bathroom and my tired face is staring back at me in the mirror. I brush my hair away from my cheek with the side of my hands, and with that swift motion, the aroma of pomegranates enters my body once again. I am still staring at the reflection and I hope my eyes will deceive me. My stomach begins to churn and my emptiness dwells with in me. I begin to vomit violently. I collapse helplessly and drift to dream while the pomegranates fade, dance and sew the empty seam.

I am standing in my bedroom. The sweet aroma that follows me has dispersed through my surroundings. My twisted reflection still remains to block me from my escape. I stare at her bleeding lip and at her upsetting appearance. It is my face, but not my emotion, and although my emptiness has not yet been filled, repairs have commenced. I have several answers to what was previously unknown. My fear of the reflection and her bleeding lip is a direct effect derived from experience. I understand why my love is unconditional and why my need for others is so vital.
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I turn my head to the window. Light from the sun has enhanced the darkness of my bedroom. I am now able to remove my feet from the Velcro floor. I am both refreshed and exhausted all in one. I swiftly grab my keys and run to my car. I quickly throw my keys in the ignition and roll my windows down. I insert my favorite music and I drive alone until my perception of the world in this moment is no longer vague.