From Inside the Boogie Man

My reflection is me; my reflection is you, sharing a moment in time that is both present and past. Suspended in a mirror that neither of us share but both of us are. A mirror we share, a mirror we are. It’s a tale as old as time—that of a mother and daughter. One soul split in two; whatever are they going to do? A near-perfect replica, two women with brown eyes—eyes I couldn’t meet in the mirror for a decade. It was always you reflected back at me. I saw you for so long that I forgot my own face, not seeing the monster that took its place. Denying that I became a victim of this vicious cycle others call alcoholism, but we know it by a different name, you and I. A destiny given, a destiny changed. I walked away from destiny while you stayed the same.       

A mirror we share, a mirror we are, for I am you in more ways than one. I look just like you; that’s what everyone says. “You look just like your mother.” A phantom audience cries. I was tied to you and you tied to me. Brown hair and brown eyes—how you hated them. You dyed your hair blond and wore blue contacts. When I was young, we would giggle and play together, but then I got older, and your mask slipped. You dress me in your clothes, a life-size doll for you to play with.  Some days you love me, brushing my hair and telling me that I am beautiful, that I am special. Other days you hit me, pouring your own self-loathing down my throat until I choke. To you, I am your best friend and your worst enemy. The doppelganger you never wanted but created all the same. Telling me to be proud of my eyes while you cover your own. Eyes you were afraid of. Eyes that stared back at me in that mirror.

Alcohol took your mask as I got older. Pills carried you away when I became a woman. Still a child on the inside, unable to comprehend where you went. Driving away into the sunset with a man I’d never met. Four children were left behind with monsters by our side. Tears I can’t explain for a death that is both real and not. Because you’re still here, somewhere, but the woman I remember is gone. The woman who danced in the kitchen to songs on the radio. The woman who read me stories at night and put ribbons in my hair. If we are the same then where did you go? You can’t just leave a piece of you behind. So I waited on that dock looking toward the horizon, holding the frayed rope that had tied us together. 

A mirror we share, a mirror we are, for I am you in more ways than one. I am just like you; that’s what everyone says. Grief became my keeper and alcohol my chains. I built a mausoleum from the bottles I drank. Burying the memories of us together side by side. Bound to a pattern of behavior far older than either of us.  A cycle starting over, a child of my own. A love you should have had, did you have it? Did you leave me out of love or out of greed? Destroying myself one drink at a time. A million lies scattered like stars in the endless darkness I found myself a part of. I was nothing like you; I was me, somewhere. Somewhere inside me suddenly there was someone else. I act nothing like you. Even my drinking is different because I don’t have the problem, you do. A glowing lie to add to the galaxy of lies glittering in the sky of my design. I had forged every star and placed them in constellations that knew no end.

Hope, a drink, a drink disguised as hope tying me to the dock to look for your sails on the horizon. But your sails would never come, and my body has merged with this dock on this ocean. Rotted, broken, and forgotten while my own life carries on without me. Everything is fine, I don’t have a problem. How much longer could I add stars to my sky? Denying myself a victim of the poison I willingly drank. Death’s faithful servant, I laid offerings at her door, flowers molded from the love I had for you. The ferryman’s price coin formed from courage I did not have. In agony, I begged, but my soul was not taken. Even death had left me forsaken.

My reflection is me; my reflection is you, sharing a moment in time that is both present and past. Suspended in a mirror that neither of us share but both of us are. A mirror we share, a mirror we are, for I am you in more ways than one. I whisper to myself. Alone in the ocean of my sorrow, unwilling to see tomorrow. I stare at the person before me, and she is neither of us. I do not know this person. Brown hair that is matted with grease, skin that is dry and cracked, dark circles under brown eyes with wine-stained teeth. We went our separate ways, yet I walked the path you once walked and arrived at a different destination. Blaming you for my pain from inside the boogie man that I created in your absence. A sudden laughter breaks the silence. Joy wraps itself in my skin and my hair in the form of tiny fingers. Eyes that are both the ocean and the beach glitter back at me. Pulling me away from the dock to play in the sand. My liberated feet follow him to a blanket on the ground. The picnic basket contains fruit and water. I look back to the dock one final time. Seeing the bottle sitting there, waiting for me, I drink the water instead. Unbound by alcohol, I rewrote my stars. In them, I told stories of you, and I let them go one by one. Slowly forgiving what you had done. Fueled by eleutheromania, I leave the ocean to climb new mountains and fly high on the wind. The bottle I left on the dock grows dusty. My liberated heart turns its back on the horizon, and my soul sings lullabies to sleeping stars.