Two mirrors

Bright colors surround me,
Hold my hand,
Siding all and none.
Enjoying the endless conversations.

The lights are fading around me,
I am rising,
The shooting star,
Words of grandeur flow about.

People look at me as I smile,
The knives in my heart,
Bled so hard,
Reaching out to the turned backs.

Disbelief in their eyes,
They stand so far away,
It seems that they no longer care,
But I will continue to dare.

The light side of the coin,
The dark of the night,
Surprised by the replies,
I see hell in their eyes,
The people surrounding me,
I have been forsaken.
Why do they smile like that?
Why don’t they smile back?

Essences of two hearts laid bare.
Two mirrors of my soul,
The ray of sunlight and the abyss,
The two entwined around my fate,
Similar to me,
Yet so different,
Mirrors they have been.
-The twins

There are two girls I’ve met in my life whom I feel are like the female versions of me. One is the actress, the persona of my public self, a bright voice that is the lighter side of me. The other, the story teller, the painter of words, the darker side of me.

I saw so much of the way I am in them, that it allowed me to understand myself better from a third person point of view, an insight that I never had until I met both of them. Both of them, have had a significant but brief part in my life, of which I regret neither.

Both girls were talkative, and both liked attention, but the way they got it was entirely different. That was the difference between the light one and the dark one.

The light one had naivety and cheerfulness. Having endless energy that seemed to explode out of her, some what like what I was when I was younger. She loved to talk to everyone, be friends with everyone; she basically was the kind of person who liked to please and to be everyone’s friend, no matter who you were, from fellow student, to teacher etc. I am somewhat like that, I try to be friends with everyone, and I do not have problems with making friends with authority figures, like teachers, or officers. I never saw superiors as people who could not be one’s friends, though others thought differently.

She was like me, making friends with teachers; there were people who resented her for that just like I was resented for it too. And in the background, she was disliked or backstabbed, pretty much like I was when I was younger. Friendliness came with a drawback, people found it irritating at times, my befriending or being nice to authority figures made me look like I was sucking up to them, when all I wanted to be was friends with them, and did not expect any form of favoritism.

I saw it more clearly when even some of her close friends told me bad things about her. It made me wonder if they were even her friends at all. Her popularity and unpopularity came into contrast, it allowed me to see the divide on who resented her for being such a person. It also allowed me to understand, that the way I am may make people dislike or resent me, because I don’t think that making friends or being friendly towards authority figures is wrong, I treat each person equally when it comes to being friends. So is it wrong to be friendly towards authority? At the end of the day, she was seen as a teachers pet, her very own friends betrayed her, and it hurt her badly, but fortunately she got back from it and moved on, though it probably left a scar on her. For me, I’ve not had a huge group turn on me, rather individuals did such things.

The dark one was a story teller, a kind of female Loki, spinner of tales and lies. I must say, in my youth I’ve told many grand stories, and I’ve used it in my writing to help me a lot. Though the uses of those grand stories were to fool or bluff people as to whom I was when I was younger. It painted a picture, grand as it was, making me look great, when I was a person who had nothing at that point of time to show for, and so I used stories. As time went by, I’ve had more things to show for, and thus stories that I once told, ceased to be said, but became writing and were not used to bluff. Perhaps that’s the reason why I can write better than I did last time, but then again, it could be experience and development of my mind. Now to not diverge anymore, back to the lass, the Loki, the story teller.

She is perhaps one of the best conversationalists I ever met. Whom I loved just listening to, and there are few people whom I would sit down and listen to for hours. Of course much of what she told me is hard to believe, and several have been refuted by people who know her and know me. And I learnt that she was good at telling stuff that weren’t true. She was someone who wasn’t well liked by people around her, but the friends she had were really good friends with her, though they did keep their distance. This is somewhat how my situation was once when I was younger, I had many friends from people outside my class, but the ones in my class did not like me, due to the combination of both traits.

I’ve learnt along the way from what made people dislike me. My obnoxious and dislikable traits and improved myself, and realized that it’s important to understand one’s follies, and why people would dislike me. It’s perhaps made me a better person, who still has a lot more room to improve. But by understanding these two, who are like my mirrors of myself, help me to understand my past mistakes and improve myself better.


The shadows slowly forgotten,
Relationships that were forsaken,
Realizing that no one waited,
Many a word left unsaid.

A connection between two souls.

Emotions all surrounding,
A connection of everlasting memory,
Like a blinding ray of light,
Like an ocean of promises.

No one is standing at the door.

An empty entrance before me,
It leads to end of my journey,
My life laid bare,
I feel it pulling away from me.

The door seems so far away.

It disappears rapidly into the darkness,
Like a boat over the horizon,
Returning to my senses,
Finding what was long forgot.

Thus it was greatly neglected.

As tears flow down her eyes,
Wanting to will her emotions away,
Held in my arms with a listening ear,
She opens up her ocean of emotions.
Twenty years of waiting.

-Journey of two souls.