And there he stands. He stares at me with his posture perfect, his muscular arms crossed over his chest, and his gaze on me. I feel like I am back in middle school, about to get punched in the mouth and beaten to the ground to watch my own blood pool up on the black tarmac playground.
“Well what are you waiting for? What are you going to do? Just sit there, looking like a baby without his mother. Do something!” he bellows.
I’ve known him my whole life. He constantly puts me down and never lets me live my own life. Why can I never put my own past behind me?
I think to myself, “This is the last time I will ever let anyone stand in front of me to bring me down. I’m not going to just let someone make my miserable life worse.”
I stand proudly.
The gesture surprises him and he takes a small step back.
My heart beats rapidly as I feel my blood flow through me. The veins in my arms pop as I make a tight fist with my right hand. Everything in my peripheral vision blurs and goes dark; my enemy becomes the focal point.
Before, he used to tower over me. Now we’re the same height. I can stand my own ground.
“Look at you standing up. Last time you did that you went right back down. What’s the difference this time? WHAT’S THE DIFFERENCE NOW?” he howled at me.
I have to face my fear.
Now, my blood rages through my body and makes my eyes bloodshot. I scream from the top of my lungs. The fist in my right hand swings forward and shatters the mirror. The reflection of him breaks into tiny, glittering bits. Blood drips from my hand and pain shoots up my arm. Tears fill my eyes. I will always remember that my biggest enemy is and always will be … myself.