My Reflection

Something I just started. I know it's not perfect, it's a rough draft, but I would love some thoughts.

Somewhere between this person and that adventurer, whose laughs and antics colored his days, whose shirts alternated by the shades of the rainbow, labeled with the names of the week, who when wearing white socks and denim jeans would proclaim through a smile that he's wearing “people clothes,” there must have been a schism or break from who I was and this man reflected across my sink, whose features are eerily similar to the ones in my, not his, memories, whose eyes are but vestiges searching for what it was that made them so hollow.

I am not the person I used to be; I am something entirely different.

Somewhere between here and home lies myself, who got lost pursuing [a different] direction, whose days are fraught with dreams, dormant dreams of being awake, dreaming of arriving in a different state, where life is progressed with dreamlike ease, but instead this mirror reflects recurrent reality, a reality with dreams of falling asleep, anywhere I might imagine to be, I dream, is a fitting place to sleep, to sleep in hope of myself awaking, awaking to my, not his, reality, where I could fall asleep and dream of fantasy and not his recurrent yearn for the man I used to be.

I am not the man I used to be; I am a man entirely different.

Somewhere between myself and this water stained yet vivid mirror, reflecting in detail every hair, scar, pore, nostril, all of his features, is an empty faucet with two opposing yet identical handles capable of mixing hot and cold, capable of meshing now and old, are my hidden feet which must be planted because here I stand evidenced by my reflection, by who I see staring back at me, evidenced by my familiar features, despite absent daily colorful T-shirts, despite not saying what I've said, despite that schism I am evidenced by my reflection.

I am not the person I used to be; I am myself, entirely different.

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P.S. The run-on sentences are very intentional.