At some point I decided to enter a spherical room covered in a single mirror. At the epicentre of the sphere at the bottom was a single light in circular shape. It illumined through a translucent glass which neither blinded nor shaped the way I feel at the very sight of my own reflection. I was imprisoned here. It was now my home. So it was, and so my ugly face was to blame; for my soul was trapped inside this feeble figure which I call a body which served no purpose whatsoever. Nor could I wed. Nor could I love. Nor could I hate. Nor could I live. I wanted to die. I wanted to suddenly disappear. An hour would pass and I almost forgot how I entered this room or why I entered it in the first place. It was almost like an escape pod onboard a ship, in a distant star system; in this space, in this hour, half my life was kept, half my life shall rise again – so rise above the stars. The more I distance myself away from society, the more human I am; the more time I spend in the stars, the more I see myself for what I truly am.

Somehow, it was beautiful. I saw myself. In every shape or form. In each angle I turned became a different man I yonder saw. As though metres away there was someone similar to me in the same position. If I sat, I would have to cover the light; therefore I could not see myself. I had to stand. I had to stand between the light, with my feet just about grasping the slopes of the sphere on either side: this much in order to see where I was, and what the infinite personas come to blend to form the person I am today.

No sound but my fingers slipping through the mirror. No sound but my feet treading lightly lest they slip. No sound greater than the voices in my head begging for defeat and to succumb to vice whilst my head grew in weight, so much that pressure on mine eyes effected me a thousand tears that not one could ever leave this very room. If I cried, I would be forced to breathe in the vapour of mine own tears; the sovereign of mine own conscience would sink to the bottom like a ship with no end in sight and no ocean bed to carry my fall to the undoing of the Universe.

Thus many positions I tried, different faces I scorned, vast thoughts attempted, the personas of great thinkers, the infinite expanse of emotion ere much I sought but doomed in failure. I was trying to become someone I wasn’t. But I was alone. I had no friends to support my views, nor assist my emotions for a breakthrough. If I could use my violent anger to break this mirror I would. If I did, I would never be able to get out. I would be trapped. I would never be able to see my people again.

All the voices I made, from silence to whisper; from speaking to yelling, never echoed once. I can see myself performing every act your imagination can deem possible to human degree. To that human degree, I judge myself at this point thus lesser than what you read right now. And now, I was starting to give up. I was starting to ‘lose it’. With no food to eat nor drink to drink, I was weakening.

For the first time, I was now speaking the very words from my inner self. A violent and confident being now turned into a true and mellow being with a conscience I never thought I knew. Suddenly I thought to myself, “what have I been doing all these years?” or something like “why was I acting the way I did before?” It seemed clear then that I couldn’t withstand myself. I could hold the highest position in office, endowed with better traits than most I thought, the greatest paramours and mistresses I could ever ask for. But, I was missing one thing: myself. If it were a thing, then I am mistaken. I should correct myself: he is a person. He was never a thing; he is a living being who wants to help.

As I sat with tears rolling down mine eyes, I saw a man in infinite space doing the same, and everywhere I turned to look, I saw the same man looking back. They were all looking back at me. To infinite measure. These reflections were always there; there was just no mirror to present them. I wish I had done this before, so much I could change for the better. At my midlife now, I wish I did so much more meaningful things. I realised now that pleasure alone was but pain bemoan.

Honour and Pride had always served as my greatest; I viewed them as distant reflections, but I drew them closer as I peered deeper into one of my own reflections and whispered aloud: here is the real You. Here is what you are and what you always were. Now mould yourself to become who you really are. My heart agreed. My conscience agreed. And in spite of my id, so too did the mirrors agree.

At last I found myself walking through the shards of mirror that once pierced my mind so too shall pierce my feet to walk through the lonely room in the darkest space that keeps me here. In an instant I saw my other half and children waving me from afar. As I ran to them I saw myself becoming a man I knew I always was. I was there for them. From this point onwards, I can truly say that I am now part of the whole, the bigger picture that paints my canvas a beauty no words dare describe.

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