Rearview: A short story

“It’s not just about you anymore.”

He said it matter-of-factly. So simple. So self-assured.

He adjusted the mirror to look at me in the back seat.

I leaned my head back and looked into the rearview mirror.

I could only see his eyes reflected in the glass.

His words pierced through my intoxicated fog and it was unnerving.

I thought he didn't get it. Didn't get me. But that was expected. No one did.

Hindsight being 20/20 I know he was the only one who truly saw me that night.

Who told me what I needed to know but didn't want to hear.

I hated what he said. But he was right.

Everything I went through. Everything I am going through. Everything I will go through.

It’s not just about me anymore.

See me

Can you see me?

The faded scars so light they seem like laugh lines.

Well hidden behind fake smiles and brave fronts.

No. Really. Can you see me?

The fear of rejection and abandonment behind twinkling eyes.

Stained glass windows hiding what lies inside.

I need you to see me.

So much more beneath the surface begging for sweet release.

Making me think if I could say it out loud just once, I’d find peace.

Trust

What would happen if I shared the darkest part of me?

If I cracked open my rib cage and exposed my insecurities?

Would you laugh? Or worse… judge me?

See to me trust doesn’t come easily.

I’m left jaded by years of hurt and secrecy.

But like the last thing out of Pandora’s Box my hope takes flight.

With each laugh, each tear, each word whispered late at night.