Wednesday, February 07, 2007

Identity.

The Mirror and the Mickey Mouse sticker.

1. She stares into the mirror, one insolent eye to another, each holding the other in contemptuous regard. The Mickey Mouse sticker hovers around her/her tender, infected ear lobe: evidence of the stretch of her 4 year-old fingers trying to leave a time capsule on the mirror. Would it fall through? Was she staring into the mirror or was the mirror staring into her/her? Maybe it wasn't a Mickey Mouse sticker on the other side, but a more sinister, rat spectre.

2. Her/her gaze shifts to her/her lips, slightly parted. As if aware that they are under surveillance, they purse to convey the illusion of fullness, contentment; but beating under the epithelium is a wistful yearning that spreads itself like cancer, expanding its territory with every pulse.

3. She tells herself she will never let it happen again, never. Never again. This addiction that has vituperant, careless demands, that takes over her Every Waking Moment. Her life is built around each fix - each line of gentle persuasion, every shot of calculated decision meant to tide her over to the next breath.

4. Does she use the same hair product, she wonders. Perhaps when she isn't watching, her reflection will adjust its skirt, straighten its blouse, mock her nescience.

5. They talked about writing both sides of the argument in English today. Even then, as the teacher asked if anyone had any questions, she couldn't bring herself to raise her hand to ask if the person in the mirror wrote the other side of the story.

6. Denise. D-E-N-I-S-E. In chatrooms it was d3n1se_007.

7. The other she would call Esined. DeniseEsinedDenise. If she could cut Esined open, then maybe she would see the opposite of what ticked in her own body: Blue blood and a whole heart.

- blogs, internet, email. I'll be useful, I'll be cavalier.
by @ 10:42 AM