Prelude: Reflecting On Reflections

You stop questioning the man in the mirror almost instantaneously after the first time your eyes meet. This is me, you think. I am him. He’s your closest companion. As common as dawn, you can count on him to be there in the morning. You watch him as you brush your teeth; his mouth foaming, wrist scrubbing vigorously; his strokes always perfectly synchronized with yours. You can always rely on him to be there when you need him, and to disappear when you don’t. He knows your deepest, darkest secrets; and you, his. But one day, the sun never rises. The man you’ve always recognized isn’t there anymore. In his place stands a person you’ve never seen before. But you’re no stranger to him �" he knows everything about you. He knows you lied to your mother yesterday on the phone. He knows you don’t really miss her.  He knows it was really you who put the dead mouse in Ms Young's desk in third grade. And he knows it felt good when you told the principle you saw Arnie Simpson do it. He even knows you got a little hard last spring when watched that young girl eating ice cream in the park. He knows you still fantasize about it �" her pink tongue innocently running up and down the sweet cream; sucking it off her fingers as it drips down one hand, the other held tightly by her mother’s. He knows your deepest, darkest secrets - and he judges you for them. You can see it in his eyes, the disdain; the disgust. He mocks your pain and pities your loneliness. As you cower, completely naked in front of the man in the mirror, you realize this is that moment. That pivotal moment in one’s life when the dust settles; the veil removed.  When all is revealed and you’re finally confronted with the reality that is yourself. 

When this happens, you have three options: you can ignore the man in the mirror, accept him, or fight him. Most people would say they fight him. From that moment on, they spend their lives in a tumultuous battle against themselves, eventually resulting in triumph over their demons. Good defeats evil and everything is right again in the world. The alcoholic overpowers his addiction and the bottle never touches his lips again. The fat girl stops stuffing her face out of contempt and becomes a glorified fashion model. The preacher fights his unnatural urges toward the choir boys and God opens the gates to heaven. Unfortunately, in reality, most people end up ignoring him. They look past him into the vacant room behind them, or pretend it’s one of those distorted images produced from fun house mirrors. Some even avoid him all together. These people are easy to spot �" their hair tends to be unkempt, dressed in soiled, wrinkled clothes that never match. They always look down, in case he might pop up in the glare on a passerby's sunglasses or  follow along side them in the windows that line the city walls. But what about the others, those who accept the sacks of s**t they’ve become? These are the people we envy. They tend to be wealthy, infamous, and powerful - lawyers, politicians, capitalists, and celebrities. But they're also the people we fear the most: criminals, murderers, radicals and psychopaths. Very rarely a person's acceptance can directly lead them to brilliance: artists, writers, and great thinkers. But don't fool yourself into thinking you're one of those few - you're not. Finally, there is another, fourth, option. However, only a tiny portion of people can even consider this an option, and even fewer who carry it out entirely. Those to weak to ignore him, to cowardly to fight him, and too ashamed to accept him, will always have the fourth option to, but of course, destroy him.

I stand here looking at a man who's face I've never seen. The kind of man I would scowl at on the street. The kind of man you don't assist, even in his greatest time of need. The kind of man whom you never hope to meet. This is that moment for me.