In a field, not far from our house there was a pond.
Actually it was a bomb crater which had been created when a plane was forced to jettison it’s payload during World War II; local wisdom was that it had been a Luftwaffe bomber.
We were under the strictest instructions to be careful around the pond because it was deep and, being a bomb crater had very steep sides. Being a non-swimmer and somewhat afraid of the water I always obeyed that rule.
When I was still only 10, on bad days when someone had made me do things that I didn’t want to; I used to kneel at the side of the water and just stare at my reflection for a while.
The boy I saw in the water was usually very sad and often had tears on his cheeks; I used to talk very quietly to him in an effort to cheer him up. Eventually I would leave and head back home with my best smile firmly in place.
Some nights, while I was waiting for sleep to come I used to wonder; was the boy in the water still weeping?
Love
Disengagement.
If it gets to disengaged and desperate the boy in the water can appear to beckon one in.
A very real danger, it can be difficult to be sure which one is real.
I was struggling to find the words to respond to this post, I cannot find the words because I have never experienced what you have.
I really do appreciate the reponse nonetheless. I’m glad that you haven’t had that experience, I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.
Glad to say I never got to such a point, but sad to hear that you did. The prolonged nature of your suffering was quite different from my two relatively insignificant experiences later in my youth which I will not bore you with. I accept the same reply as you made to Ian.
Thank you
Back then I reached a point where I hated the reflection that met me. I once smashed my mirror, probably to ‘hurt’ that stupid looking idiot staring at me, the one that had lost control of his own life and lacked the power to take it back. Smashing that mirror made him go away, almost like I had killed him. Didn’t make me feel better though, and picking pieces of glass from my knuckles didn’t help at all. It only had me yelled at.
I believe the boy in the pond cried, yes. If you cried, he cried too. No matter distance or presence of water.
Love
Daniel
That’s the trouble with reflections they don’t lie to us; it’s very much ‘what you see is what you get’ and I can understand why your young self would want to destroy that. Smashing the mirror may not have helped but at least the face wasn’t accusing you any more.
Sometimes I wanted the boy to be crying even when I was pretending to be happy at home, I felt that someone should still shed tears.