Whiplash of Self-Reflection: My Shadow Self

The splitting of a chocolate bar. The instant coziness of coffee brewing in the nearby pot. The smell of incense smudging the corners of your house-your soul. The weight of a heavy blanket swaddling your inner child. Soft light cascades past the blinds embracing every surface that welcomes its warm presence. Who is this aching soul that I suddenly hear? What is this low energy disturbing my peace- invading my auric field? How dare their loud thoughts and quiet demeanor crash this sweet party of solitude! With agitation, I shuffle my feet across the cold bare wood floor as I am pulled to this being in need of help. The door is ajar. Sniffles echo in the emptiness of the shower. Water trickling down into the drain. Tears and soap mingle into a sea of foam at her feet. A door opens behind me and I jump in fear of being seen. Lights disappear as a small beacon of illumination exposes mournful eyes in the misty mirror. I suddenly remember the poor girl in the shower and turn my attention back to her as my heart finally settles, but she is now gone. My gaze fixates back on the mirror and my heart drops as the eyes I once saw appear to be my own. I ponder at the wetness of my clothes-my skin. What happened, I ask?