Reflections Never Awoken

No crack, no boom, no giant bolt of lightning splitting the atmosphere in two and crumbling everything around it like most of us had expected. Just a clean slice, perfectly down the middle, and a quick opening to an endless void above. Screams echoed throughout the land, bodies flailing like flies stuck in honey, and the earth rumbling beneath our feet. But nothing felt real to me. I knew the screams were there but couldn't hear them. Others were running like madmen, but I couldn't see them. And the earth started to crumble beneath my feet, but my body was numb to the touch, almost sore and threatening to collapse at the slightest movement. Even though my body was tethered to the ground, my soul was free—and most certainly flying. I could feel it. But that didn't matter. Because in front of me, almost instantly, a rusted mirror appeared.

It felt familiar, but also... not. I saw my memories slowly flash across, reflections of my past. The mirror cracked unevenly as earlier versions of me came and went, each old memory chipping this lifeline. By the time it reached my most recent memory, the mirror was basically broken. But before shattering, it displayed a memory I’d never seen before. Or at least, I think. It was a version of me in middle school, playing catch with some friends I never remember having. The ball flew back and forth, never missing a single beat, all while the reality around it faded into a cloudy haze. The ball felt heavy in my hand, though it wasn't real. After the haze had covered me, the rest of the world started glitching. Suddenly, the ball grew an eye, then two, then three. Before I knew it, the whole reflection was covered in eyes—some staring into space, others desperate, and a few showing no apparent emotion. But one caught my gaze. It was a singular pupil, locked with my real self, almost gazing at me with pity, seeming to convey the message: "I'm sorry." And then the mirror broke into a million pieces, and that memory was gone.

I awoke in my bed, shaking, breath heavy, heartbeat irregular, and blood as cold as ice. As I took a moment to calm myself, I scanned my room. No abnormal objects, no out-of-place shadows, no holes filled with endless voids. I sighed—heavy. So the world wasn’t ending. But what was that dream? And why did it feel so... real? No time to ponder, however. I have to get to my corporate job at eight a.m. sharp, or I’m going to hear a lot of whining about company policies from my boss. So, I got dressed, downed part of a yogurt cup since nothing else would agree with my stomach, and rushed out of my apartment. The elevator ride was painfully slow, as have been the attempts to fix its creaky gears.

As I stepped out of the building, a cool blast of fresh air hit my face. But right after, I was blinded by the harsh rays of the sunrise. Walking along the sidewalk, I could see the autumn leaves greeting me, waving gracefully in the air. Further down the street, everything seemed to be going... slower than usual. For a brief moment, I saw everyone glitch into tiny particles, and a faint ghost of one of the kids in the memory. It seemed to whisper to me, "Are you real? Is anything real?" I clutched my heart and stumbled into a wall, and by the time I looked back up, everything was normal. Besides a few side-eyes from passing strangers, I safely continued my walk. After that ghostly encounter, my mind kept dragging me back to my dream. What was that memory trying to convey? And why did it appear in a broken reality? So many questions, but not enough time to find answers—or else I’ll be late.

As I sprinted through my office door and checked in, I barely escaped another lecture. Today’s list was the same as any day: paperwork, an email to one of my coworkers, and a technician repair ticket that needed handling. Repeat, repeat, repeat. It never ends. It's all catching up to me. My migraines get longer each day. Sleep barely exists in my regular schedule anymore. And with every word I type in my emails, it feels like my fingers are slowly being chopped off. I just want to go back to my safe spot. That reality I found earlier doesn’t seem to look so bad anymore. It gave me purpose—and a will to explore. Something to look forward to. To live for. But this job? It seems to be digging a hole into the ground, dragging my soul into a bottomless pit of boredom. Today needs to end, and quick. I need to go back. Find more answers. Revisit that memory. Gain what I’m missing. Do anything except be here. This cycle I’m living in continues on endlessly, and I’ve done it so many times that out of a sheer will for purpose, I started making games with my coworkers. Betting on when the coffee pot would run out, how many complaints could come through before the boss yelled at someone, and who could grab the most donuts without getting noticed. But when I got to the donut station today, something felt off. I ignored it and got in line. But by the time I went to grab the last donut left—a glazed vanilla donut with sprinkles—something weird happened. For a moment, every sprinkle on that donut turned into an eye, staring directly into my soul with a harsh gaze. My heartbeat leapt, and my stomach immediately decided that we were not going to eat right now. I carefully placed the donut back down and trudged to my office cubicle. Besides today, these games have been the only thing stopping me from quitting and have kept my sanity partially intact.

Eventually, the day came and went, and I was back in my apartment. I knew the routine: lights out by midnight, or the landlord would bang on my door and blindly yell at me. It's about ten now, so I have some time to get ready for bed. But first, now that I have some alone time, those questions need to be answered.

I let my mind wander back into that reality, frozen in time and shattered. But something was wrong. It was as if an entity in that realm was fighting back, forcing me back into reality. The harder I fought, the dizzier I became. My mind was whirling with glitched versions of myself, each whispering to me that going back wasn’t worth it, that I should just continue on with my life. But even at the point of exhaustion, I was still going to try. Near passing out and extremely woozy, I still gave one hard push—and that barrier finally broke, allowing me back into the realm.

Around me I could see the shattered mirror, but everyone was gone. It was as if they just disintegrated into thin air. I was now able to move and took this freedom to walk to the nearby city. It was quiet, not a single movement in sight. The buildings had crumbled, but in perfectly aligned chunks, with not a single speck of ash in sight. Besides the rubble, they were spotless, like this ruin was meant to be and freshly built. Although this universe seemed to be screaming at me to turn back, I kept moving forward. The farther I trudged, the more overgrown the land became. It was as if Mother Nature was slowly reclaiming the land and not willing to let it go again.

The roots were deep, vines thick, bird calls around every corner. It just seemed to radiate a world that could have been—if... if we hadn’t destroyed the Earth. There were a few human civilizations that I walked past, and each one seemed to live in harmony with nature. One town caught my eye as I walked past, with a border around it. But it wasn’t man-made with concrete or plastic, but instead natural. A whole circle of trees, each one standing taller than the last, stretching their leaves upwards and giving oxygen to everything around it. The air felt sharp, and I noticed some kids playing with a ball made from gently tied strands of grass. This town, along with the others surrounding it, looked as if money, time, and politics didn’t matter—only mutual peace. Then it clicked. That memory... was showing me how my reality could have been altered if I had not been so selfish and had let harmony into my heart.

Those kids... were the quiet ones, the ones who were counted as nerds. I remember I used to bully them all the time. Calling them names, throwing crumpled test scores at them, mocking them for their smarts, and overall being a complete jerk. I hadn’t cared what they thought of me then, since everyone else adored me for it. But apparently, that wasn’t worth it.

I had always hung out with the popular kids, never left their side, and I guess that infested my brain and made me only care about trends and social status. I didn’t realize it back then, but they did treat me pretty meanly. They used me as a servant, running errands for them, cheating off my homework, and taking the blame for anything they did wrong. They showed me off like an award-winning pony, threatening to throw me in a dumpster behind the school if I didn’t comply, but they never did.

I truly hadn’t lived my childhood normally, only mindlessly followed a forced path that would lead to this unwanted living situation. It’s too late to change now, but maybe—just maybe—I can break free from these chains made by society and find my true path. At this point, I’m going to turn into a mindless zombie by the time next work season rolls around. I’ve made up my mind. Tomorrow, I will quit my job and go find a better situation for myself. No matter what happens, I can’t be blindly living in the dark anymore. I’m going to slam that I QUIT note on the receptionist’s desk, storm out of that building, and go properly live my life! I will find my own path—and it will be done. Using. My. Bare. Hands.

But how long can I dig this path, until my wounds re-open—and I start to bleed again?