What you are about to hear is a true story.

As I sat there, perfectly still, so as not cause any error on the barber's part, I stared into the mirror in front of me. As I was examining my face I saw a person that I didn't recognize. His features were aged. His jaw, rigid. Eyes, deepset. A lock of hair clung to his forehead. I don't know why, but I hated him. It was the first time I can ever say I truly hated anyone. When the realization came that I was looking in a mirror I fought the possibility that it could in fact be myself I was staring at. It wasn't me. There was no joy in his eyes. No smile on his crooked face. Revolted, I turned my head and my thoughts away from this stranger who bore my likeness.

On the drive home, in traffic, my brother had to make a quick stop because of the car in front of us. But along with the general feeling of panic one feels when you anticipate the worst, I felt something else. I wasn't sure what it was until I looked at the man in the next lane, eating his cheeseburger. As far as I can recall, this was the first time that I was truly afraid for my life. I knew without a doubt, that I was about to die. I wasn't afraid of being dead like so many are. Death is inevitable. That much I understand. It was the actualization that I was afraid of. The metal crunching flesh crunching bone. The whip of my head from one side to the next, jarring my soft grey matter within my skull, eventually landing on the window or steel beam beside me. Splintering, bruising. I was afraid of the time it took between the impact and the stopping of my breath. I was afraid that I would become that man from the mirror. With my deepset eyes staring vacant at the sky. Or worse yet, closed. And the blood seeping from my freshly cut hair down past my ears to the street. And the people watching. Staring at my contorted body. Watching as I'm placed into the black garbage bags. Zipped shut to be forgotten. But after this, it's quite peaceful really. Not existing and all. I would be able to get used to that. But the thing is, actualization's a bitch.