Excuses, Excuses

I began seeing the shadows a couple weeks ago. Those tall, thin figures that follow everyone, black limbs draped over them. When I first began seeing them, I told myself I was crazy. But isn't that just an excuse we all use to explain the impossible?

The sight of the shadows made my stomach churn, my mind ache. On my tongue I would taste death. What was I seeing? And why?

Eventually I could block them out. But I never forgot them.

There are days that I slip up. Too much on my mind and I... I see them again. I see them behind my mom and little brother. Behind my dad.

I have come to believe that those figures are a darker part of us we try to hide. And as far as I know, I'm the only one that can see them. The people around me are like puppets on strings,moved along by their shadows.

I don't know much more about them. All I know is that I'm not being played by any kind of puppeteer. That's the only comfort I have in this mess.

I avoid people as much as possible now. I cancelled my plans for college and I'm going to be leaving the house as soon as possible. Where I'll go? I don't know. But even alone in my room, I can feel the shadows. I can't block them out anymore. And believe me, I've tried. Rot and decay cloud my senses. I can't be around people without wanting to claw my eyes out. It wouldn't matter if I did, though. I don't have to see them to know they're there.

Right now I'm going through my things, packing a bag with only necessities. Tomorrow I'm out of here.

It'll be so much better on my own. I can be free from the shadows. That's all I care about anymore.

Moving clothes from my closet, I bump the long mirror that's stashed away in the far back. I had forgotten about that. It falls and hits the wooden floor. The impact wasn't enough to break it though.

I kneel down and pick it up, holding it steady in my hands. Hesitantly, I peer at my reflection. My eyes are blood shot, dark circles beneath them. My brown hair is a mess. I'm thinner than I used to be.

Suddenly a sharp pain cuts through my mind and my stomach begins to ache. My hands shake as they go to my mouth, holding back a scream when I taste death. The mirror tips over away from me. I scramble backwards and slam into the wall. My breath is quick as I close my eyes and hit my head over and over, trying to convince myself that what I saw behind me wasn't really there. I'm crazy.

But we all know that was just an excuse. What I had seen could never have been more real.