Forever Lost?

My whole life, I’ve considered myself a writer.  Is it possible to be considered a writer if you suffer from writers block all the time?  As with my music, when it comes to doing the thing that I’ve considered one of my biggest talents and hobbies, when the time comes to let those creative sparks fly, I choke.  The reason for this is unknown to me, and incredible frustrating.  I’ve always thought perhaps the problem lies within the fact that I don’t have enough life experience.  However, the older I get, nothing seems to change.  I got away with that excuse when I was sixteen.  I can’t make the same claim at twenty-six.  Can I?

Twenty-six.  That is a real number.  Four more years till thirty.  Time has always been perhaps the most difficult concept for me to not only grasp, but accept.  It seems so unfair the way we are robbed of it at a rate that is ever-increasing.  I realize that because of this, we must make the most of it.  Try as I might, however, I always feel that I’ve disappointed myself in this task.  Too many days end without any real feeling or meaning to them.  Memories of broken promises and lost aspirations come to play, and it all seems rather meaningless and suffocating.  I surrender my consciousness to sleep, where my dreams are something I feel I could never make up while awake.  They are often my way to escape, I suppose.

I feel that I am fortunate enough to be guided by a very strong and good spirit, a protective one who watches out for me with a close eye.  I’ve had too many lucky breaks in life for this not to be possible.  I know that my soul is old, ancient perhaps.  I feel a connection to the Earth and its energies that not everyone seems to possess.  So why have I always felt this way?  Why am I so lost?  Even as a child, I had dreams, but they never seemed all that concrete, all that possible.  At least, that’s what I can recall from memory.  Perhaps I did believe in myself and I’m now just too jaded to remember.  Maybe I just never really knew what I wanted out of this life.  There was one thing that I was sure I wanted, it made me feel more alive than anything else, but it was taken from me, and I still have yet to learn the true lesson from that experience.  In the meantime, I continue to live my mundane life, just waiting for the moment to come when I can grab at something that excites me and never let it go.  Maybe I just need to work harder to find it.  Maybe it’s just around the corner.

My child will be born in just over two more months.  I can feel her moving and living inside of me and it’s one of the most incredible feelings I’ve ever had.  I know that this life will be worth a lot, but I still need to find what truly makes me feel worthwhile.  Maybe this will be it.  Maybe I will wake up in two more months.  Who knows?  Today, I woke up in a funk.  Hopefully, tomorrow will be better.


Internal Reflections

“You wake up one morning to a world without mirrors. How does your life — from your everyday routines to your perception of yourself — change?”


I’m assuming that in this prompt, we are to ignore the existence of technological “mirrors,” such as front-facing cameras on smart phones and other devices. Let’s, for a moment, pretend that this is a world where “selfies” also do not exist and the all of the shameful narcissism of the social media realm is at a minimum. Let’s throw practical solutions and technicalities to the wind for a moment, and not take this hypothetical situation quite so literally, but more metaphorically. Or, even better, let’s pretend for a moment that we are in a different time, when mirrors were the only real way to observe one’s own appearance.

I’ve never really considered myself to be all that vain. I do check my reflection at most opportunities, and I fret over my appearance at times, but not to the point of obsession, the way I see some women do. I don’t spend hours each day choosing my outfit and doing my hair and makeup. These things are given some time and careful consideration on a daily basis, but they aren’t a very central part of my life. Adversely, I don’t possess the most self-confidence in matters of appearance. I do feel somewhat unattractive at times, and I sometimes find myself staring at stunningly beautiful women, thinking “Why can’t I look like that?” I wouldn’t say that my self-esteem is terrible, though. At best, I guess I would say it’s not great, but it’s pretty healthy overall. I guess I’m a double-edged sword in this regard, the way I am in most circumstances. My personality is very multi-faceted and quite enigmatic. So my perception of a world without mirrors is a rather difficult world to imagine.

It would certainly take some getting used to. To suddenly wake up with such a peculiar change in one’s sense of reality would be unsettling at first, but it wouldn’t be unmanageable. I would still try to do all the things I normally do post-shower, to the best of my ability, and without a doubt, I would be concerned about the results, but regardless, life must go on. I wouldn’t be hiding under a rock just because my mascara might be smudged. Going out in public would certainly prove to be entertaining. I might enjoy taking a seat on a mall bench, observing the scene through my carefully placed sunglasses. Disheveled and distraught women would be scattering every which way, frantically trying to complete daily errands, while dodging acquaintances, in fear of being seen unkempt. Normally well-groomed “pretty boys” would be walking about with cowlicks in their hair and five o’clock shadows on their faces. Many people, including myself would feel a bit rattled, and it would be nice to know that I’m not alone with my flaws and occasional feelings of inadequacy.

Eventually, we’d all get on with our lives, some of us not as easily as others. I’d like to think that I would eventually get sick of trying so hard to keep up my appearance, when I have no idea what my alterations look like anymore. I rarely, if ever leave the house without applying a little eye makeup, but in this world, seeing the girl who I used to think of as a ten start looking more like a seven or an eight might take some of the pressure off. I and everyone else would probably start looking more like the way we were meant to. It would be a humbling, refreshing new change.

If there is one thing that I’m sure of, John wouldn’t even bat an eye at my new look. Maybe after a while of no longer comparing my view of myself with with what the mirror shows me, I might start to believe him a little more when he tells me how beautiful I am. Maybe I’d start listening more when he tells me he loves me, and I’d start to love me too. Maybe I’d start to be happier with my imperfections, when I stop focusing so much on them and eventually forget about them. Perhaps my view of the world would even become a little brighter. I think it would. Children would grow up without so much emphasis on looks, and maybe, as a result, they would grow into happier, healthier adults. We would all take more time to focus on each other and what’s happening around us and less on our ourselves and own jaded perspectives.

Yes, it would definitely be somewhat of a shock in the beginning, and without my daily primping and prepping for the outside world, I might feel somewhat like I’m living out a real-life nightmare of being naked in public. But when everyone else is naked too, the dream suddenly seems less nightmarish. Like anything, after some time of everyone doing it, it becomes normal. When we are no longer hiding behind masks, our true selves are exposed. We get to know each other – and ourselves – better. When we are no longer so focused on our unchanging external flaws and our physical selves, we are enlightened and our souls are freed. In this sense, a world without mirrors would be a very beautiful world indeed.