I find myself today in a bit of an awkward situation. I'm going out tonight
to celebrate a familiar's birth date in a Middle Eastern tradition called
"Mangal", which of course imply that I would have to actually, god
forbid, socialize! But rather than the usual sense of "here we go again"
I find myself wondering about my current state, and the surprising bit is that
I'm still sad
To hell with my social code, to hell with my misery, to hell with it
As my thoughts grow ever more exaggerating I find myself in a white
chamber. There is no floor, no ceiling, and as far as I can see – no walls
either. I'm suspended in midair… My meditation never got me this far. I float around, when suddenly I feel the presence of another being near me. I
turn around only to find a mirror, a simple wooden-framed mirror floating next
Is this still the reality or am I dreaming again?
I try to reach out and touch it. No… I can't reach it. Looking at my
reflection I find my body language rather ridiculous. Here I am, suspended in
mid-air, arms pointed forward like little missiles trying to reach… Wait, is
that really a mirror?
"Look at you! You pathetic little being! You're a disgrace! You
have all the qualities of a successful person, and yet you still choose to
dwell in your own tears?"
It wasn't my reflection talking, though it did look at me, arms crossed
and pressing against his chest, smirking. That voice is very familiar… I know I
should recognize this voice…
Am I really that muscular? Why am I wearing a leather
Looking at my own arms I see the sleeves of my red T-Shirt. Clearly not
leather. And there is no way that those muscles are my own, my arms are too slim.
"No ambition whatsoever. Just like your mother."
I knew I recognized this voice. "Hello Father. What businesses have
you in my reflections?"
I see his tall figure striding, stopping near my
reflection-self and putting his hands on my reflection's shoulder.
"You know you should be him. You know you can be that man. I have not tolerated
the pain of raising a son just to be punished with another copy of your mother.
One is more than enough. Why can't you be like me? Be strong! Stop caring! I can hook you up with my secretary,
you know. She is about your age, it is about time for you to be a grown man,
don't you think?"
"Why must everything I do be a failure to you father? You taught me
how dangerous the world outside is. How every person would be so happy to stab
you in the back? I should know, I've seen you doing it many times, sometimes
even to me! And what you expect me to do? I'm afraid of you! I'm afraid of
"That's your problem, not mine. I have a dream to retire at the
age of 48, that's why I persuaded your mother to have you so early in our marriage.
I wanted to give my company to you, so I can live my life in peace. But no, you
suddenly decide you don’t want this responsibility? Well guess what? I will fulfill
my dream! You have no choice but to obey me! I am your father and this is the only reason I created
you! You Will Be Successful Like Me!"
I'm awake again. Great, now I can't even have peace in my own mind…
Why must past arguments hunt me even when I'm asleep?
I think I know why I am still so sad...
Why must he always remind me how wrong I am in his eyes?