I looked down at my reflection as I stood on the cliff, the gray waters of the ocean swaying mindlessly, ignorant of the many sufferings of this world. It was somber and melancholy here, but it was quiet and peaceful, only the crashing waves and the howling winds accompanying me. Glum and sullen eyes stared up at me, my raven hair untamed and wildly thrown back from the cool breeze.
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Was it really me?
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I narrowed my eyes and peered closer at the moving mirror.
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Is this me that I’m seeing?
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My eyes, my hair, my lips, my face, my body. . . . They were all the same. But was it me?
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Why are my eyes so dull, not the bright blue it was?
Why am I not smiling anymore?
Why do I seem. . . .
What do I seem?
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The first drop of rain fell on me. Then on my shoulder and then on my hair.
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Drip.
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Drip.
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Drip.
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The sky started crying hysterically, as if it were crying for me. I looked up at the ashened sky and thanked it. The thin, holed coat did nothing to protect me from the cold as I gently knelt down on the moist grass.
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I thanked the sky for crying for me when I couldn’t cry for myself.
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I gazed down at the ocean once more, regarding myself with curiosity, as if I were staring at a stranger. I watched with wonder as my reflection smiled, although I did not feel myself doing so. My reflection’s hand reached up at me, an invite to its embrace. I yielded and let my hand down, mine touching with my reflection. Dreary, silver fingers wrapped around me as I was pulled down into the darkness.
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Oh, yes, I feel empty.
