Yesterday I Saw in the Reflection of Myself My Father
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Yesterday I saw in the reflection of myself my father.
I have been wondering for awhile if I had anger issues. The way I chomped on the leftover bones of my past indignity and called it just. As much as I wanted hang onto reality, how much have my mind twisted my perception? Interpretation bent and cracking, I wondered if I have become rigid in my pursue of my own truth. How far should I trust myself before it became stubbornness? How far should I open myself to other people's motives before they tried to make me agree to their distortion?
Lately, I wondered if I was just like my father. Explosive in his anger; a star crumpling into itself taking everything with it. What was shame if not the worst kind of recognition?
I went home from work, hands shaking. Self-hatred was just the other side of the same coin. My shame did not care that there's a reason behind the anger, only that the anger existed. So I threw my papers onto the floor; for a moment I wish I had not known myself.
But tomorrow would come and I'd see the reflection of myself again. My tired face, yes, but shoulders that would not be hunched as though bracing. Then, I would go right to work.
I would do better. From that fact alone, I should know that I am not my father.
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