[ WP ] You check yourself out in the full length mirror before going to bed . You bend down to untie your shoes . As you are nearly finished , you see with your peripheral vision your reflection stand up seconds before you do .

I ran up the six flights without taking a breath. Hands shaking, I fumbled the keys from my front pocket and entered the apartment. I slammed the door, threw the deadbolt on, and leaned up against it with my back, letting my body slump until I sat on the floor, my elbows resting against my knees. I shut my eyes hard and started breathing through my nose. My palms rubbed my scalp, my head hung low. This had been the worst night since I got back home, the worst episode I can recall. I sat against my door, rocking back and forth, calming myself. 
 
 After some time, I shakily stood up and went into the bathroom. Hands trembling, I opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed the white Zoloft bottle, popping two quickly into my mouth. I closed my eyes and continued to breath through my nose. My palms flat on the countertop, I swallowed the pills and looked into the mirror. I stared hard at myself. I looked like shit. My green eyes stared back at me through a thick film of regret. They were n't the eyes I always had. Not the same eyes that had stared back at me when they chopped my long hair off and I had wondered what I was doing with my life. I ran my hands against my head, wondering the same thing. 
 
 At one point, my eyes were sharp and intense, hungry for experience and details of the world. They found beauty and wonder in every part of life. They were the eyes that had pierced a girl's heart and convinced her to be my wife on the shores of a frozen lake. Eyes that had smiled and loved every day. The world through these eyes was bright and vivid. 
 
 But they were n't those eyes anymore. They had been dulled with pain and dread. So many years ago, they had been bright and full of life, but now they hung low, carrying a thin veil of anger and fear. 
 
 I needed a shower. The flowing water always seemed to calm my mind. I began to disrobe. I bent low and untied my boots. From the corner of my eye, something in the mirror moved, me. I stood up quickly and stared at the mirror, at myself. 
 
 My brow lowered and I studied myself. My eyes danced around my face, searching for something that was n't me. I had deep lines under my eyes and my lips looked ready to curl up. My chest heaved up and down with my deep breath, my shoulders speckled with old scars, my knuckles white, gripping the countertop. I locked eyes with my reflection. Stared back into those green eyes. My eyes. Eyes that were shrouded and tired, starving for beauty and hope. Eyes that had driven my love away from me. Eyes that had fallen out of love with the world, had seen horror and death. 
 
 I moved closer to my reflection, studying it. I placed my hand against the mirror, hoping to feel my own hand touch back, but only the cold glass against my fingertips. I looked into my reflection's eye, and in the black of his pupil, was another reflection of me. He stared back, mimicking my every move. I got as close as I could to the mirror, I knew in this third man's eye, would be another reflection. Another me. And in his eye, another. I marveled at this infinitude of reflections and knew that somewhere in there was that bright-eyed boy, and I could find him, if I only had the eyes to see.
