Flipping through the pages of her journal, she looked for signs of development. Did she accomplish what she set out to do?
Flips page.
If a stranger were to read her entries, what kind of person would they see?
Flips page.
Is she feeling lonely today?
Skips page.
An hour goes by while she taps her pencil at the edge of her desk to the sound of the minute hand on the imaginary clock hanging just above her head.
Time served as the ultimate band-aid for past mistakes.
Furiously, she started scribbling down the time she witnessed her reflection splitting in half. The product of this metamorphosis resulted in her and a mirror-like image of herself at odds with the life she set out to live.
Flips back to the first page.
Rereading this entry, she took a sip of water and gulped down the emotions she thought she was ready to spit out.
An oxygen mask kept alive the chief human who contributed one X chromosome to her genetic code.
But no blueprint existed for the aftermath of his passing.
The car started swerving when the call was made. The ER room started spinning while the nurses walked in and out. Her eyes were fixed on the gurney. The spotlight in her head focused on the stillness. Reality took a backstage to the play that was being performed.
She walked around with an extension of herself from then on. This mirror-image looked like her, sounded like her and walked and talked like her. But deep down, the two never got along.
Flips to an empty page.
She wrote about her counterpart with distaste. She saw the doppelganger staring back at her as she brushed her teeth in the morning. When she went to fix the rear view mirror she slammed on the breaks when it caught her by surprise. Even on her way to bed, the shadow tucked itself away in the dark beside her.
“Why are you like this?” she muttered out loud.
The carbon copy uttered silence.
She grew restless of its presence in her day to day life. It felt like having an unwanted twin born several years after she had grown accustomed to her own company.
One time, she tried escaping it by running through the neighborhood until she tripped over one of her shoe laces and passed out. She woke up to see it looking over her with a puzzled expression.
Erases sentence.
Another time, she tried tackling it head on but the outcome was not what she hoped.
“I don’t want your company!” she exclaimed.
The clone nodded, tipped its hat and closed the door behind it on its way out. After leaving her with a moment of solitude, the clone returned with two glasses of wine.
Next page.
One day, the two spent an evening walking down dimly lit city streets. Families, shoppers, singles and couples bustled past them as they stopped by each storefront window.
She looked directly in front of her and tried to express her antipathy for it once again.
“Frankly, I’m sick of you. You depress me, cause unnecessary anxiety and make me feel worthless. What kind of alter ego are you?”.
“Want to know how to get rid of me?” the reflection asked. She nodded and quickly leaned in closer so no one else could hear their business.
After their little chat, she rushed to the nearest grocery store to collect the ingredients to enact the separation.
Instead of battling her immaterial opponent, she transcended it with a simple recipe.
3 cups of self-surrender, 2 tablespoons of self-love and 1 ounce of self-realization.
Closes book.
Flips page.
If a stranger were to read her entries, what kind of person would they see?
Flips page.
Is she feeling lonely today?
Skips page.
An hour goes by while she taps her pencil at the edge of her desk to the sound of the minute hand on the imaginary clock hanging just above her head.
Time served as the ultimate band-aid for past mistakes.
Furiously, she started scribbling down the time she witnessed her reflection splitting in half. The product of this metamorphosis resulted in her and a mirror-like image of herself at odds with the life she set out to live.
Flips back to the first page.
Rereading this entry, she took a sip of water and gulped down the emotions she thought she was ready to spit out.
An oxygen mask kept alive the chief human who contributed one X chromosome to her genetic code.
But no blueprint existed for the aftermath of his passing.
The car started swerving when the call was made. The ER room started spinning while the nurses walked in and out. Her eyes were fixed on the gurney. The spotlight in her head focused on the stillness. Reality took a backstage to the play that was being performed.
She walked around with an extension of herself from then on. This mirror-image looked like her, sounded like her and walked and talked like her. But deep down, the two never got along.
Flips to an empty page.
She wrote about her counterpart with distaste. She saw the doppelganger staring back at her as she brushed her teeth in the morning. When she went to fix the rear view mirror she slammed on the breaks when it caught her by surprise. Even on her way to bed, the shadow tucked itself away in the dark beside her.
“Why are you like this?” she muttered out loud.
The carbon copy uttered silence.
She grew restless of its presence in her day to day life. It felt like having an unwanted twin born several years after she had grown accustomed to her own company.
One time, she tried escaping it by running through the neighborhood until she tripped over one of her shoe laces and passed out. She woke up to see it looking over her with a puzzled expression.
Erases sentence.
Another time, she tried tackling it head on but the outcome was not what she hoped.
“I don’t want your company!” she exclaimed.
The clone nodded, tipped its hat and closed the door behind it on its way out. After leaving her with a moment of solitude, the clone returned with two glasses of wine.
Next page.
One day, the two spent an evening walking down dimly lit city streets. Families, shoppers, singles and couples bustled past them as they stopped by each storefront window.
She looked directly in front of her and tried to express her antipathy for it once again.
“Frankly, I’m sick of you. You depress me, cause unnecessary anxiety and make me feel worthless. What kind of alter ego are you?”.
“Want to know how to get rid of me?” the reflection asked. She nodded and quickly leaned in closer so no one else could hear their business.
After their little chat, she rushed to the nearest grocery store to collect the ingredients to enact the separation.
Instead of battling her immaterial opponent, she transcended it with a simple recipe.
3 cups of self-surrender, 2 tablespoons of self-love and 1 ounce of self-realization.
Closes book.