The Window

At times I used to look at my reflection on the glass window pane of the apartment opposite to my room. It was empty; it had been so ever since I had moved there two years ago. When the midnight moonlight fell upon the glass, I slowly crawled out of my bed and stood there staring blankly at myself in the window. 

It started off as an occasional activity when sleep was hard to come by, but slowly it took over me. As I struggled to bury this habit for good, it strengthened within me. It soon became my passion. Oh the lust... To look into my hollow eyes and silently scream at my drowsy self. I was conscious about it, I wasn't possessed. I remember my sly feet moving towards the window, resting my hands on the pane and peering my head out. I did so in full senses. 

I stared till my cranium crunched and ached; and fear ran down as cold blood through my spine. The reflection had hollow eyes, as if it were scooped out like an ice-cream from the concave socket and replaced with darkest shade of black. My head spun, I loved the world twisting and turning around me, making me dizzy and vomity. I was in complete solitude in the company of my demons - the voices in my head. They made my lips move rapidly in a bizarre choice of words and unrecognizable set of voices resonating through the air. I smiled an eerie smile; my teeth twinkled as the twilight fell on the masses of calcium. 

I reached out at my reflection only to come to a vexed and wrathful realization that there was 5 feet of gaseous surface that separated us. I did not fear the 5 floor of fall that stood beneath my feet; I did not fear the bleeding skull or shattered bones bend awkwardly on the concrete floor; I did not fear the female screams or the manly gasps hovering over my corpse. All I feared and had ever feared was never being able to unite with the grinning boy standing and grinning back from the glass window facing me.