Screaming

I was found screaming into the mirror today.  Locking eyes with glass pools and pushing rage into the walls of the bathroom.  And while I was doing this the mirror began to break in front my face.  Cracks spidering across a broken reflection, and yet the image still remained, just with finer interruptions that could almost pass as part of me.

Forgive me, but as I look into my own face I wonder if our battles are perhaps a little lazy.  Just social ways of dealing with the struggle we all face alone.  To be un-united, divided, torn apart from close friends and colleagues by differences is the hell we fear so we live in the movement. Just so we don't have to face being alone.

I wonder if the plight of the gay man is the plight of every man, to be different in the face of a society where you don't fit- and then a movement comes along and gives you a place to belong. An opportunity that you come and take.

It's all just standing in front of the glass.  You can scream and yell and form all the cracks you want, the mirror is just a Rorschach test where what you end up seeing is the best guess of yourself.