introducing, those that aren't yours

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Memories that weren't mine flooded my head, first in my body sensationally, next as sound, and finally, visions. So much hit me all at once, with nothing around me. I flailed helplessly (I felt that sensation as stronger than any memory), my real voice drowned out by many of my own.

Was this what dying was like? Being confronted with your past, present, and unattainable futures?

One image flashed across my eyes more than any other. It was coming from inside of me, I decided, and not outside. Even if I closed my eyes - or tried to - no change was made.

My parents, my friends, Minta. I kept grabbing for Minta, calling out to her if I could. My throat strained, but I still couldn't hear myself.

Hot tears ran down my cheeks. I needed to get out of here. By any means necessary. Beg, borrow, or bleed.

Colors started to flash in the background, and I prayed those were from outside.

"Minta!" I called again, as her face flickered against my vision. This time, I recognized the setting - and I shouldn't have.

I saw the same moment, over and over again. Minta, looking in a mirror. Minta, in this big gray room. Minta, in the mirror.

And then I saw myself.

And I heard myself.

"Minta!" It was a cry at first. Sad, desperate, anguished. "Minta!"

"Minta. Minta. Minta." Like the beat of a drum.

And as I came into myself, I realized it was not her in the room, but me. Only me, crying to myself. Awake, and safe, and alone.

Me, and the mirror.

Slowly, as I stood transfixed, the mirror began to show me an image. Gray, and uncolored, like an old photo. They moved faster than a second, flashes of ink like frames of film. A film, not just of myself, but of other people. Other scenarios. Other worlds. Always with me, and always with another. Whether it be a person or a concept, I could only see me unchanging.

Myself, and. Myself, and.

For just a moment, I saw myself, and Mark.

It, he, didn't look like Mark. He was tall, and boyish, and somewhat rugged. He was strong, and funny, and kind. I can't describe his face. It was as if he had none.

But I knew who it was. I recognized his figure, even without seeing. I would know him from a mile away, the way his energy brightened when he smiled. I knew he was smiling.

More than anything, I wanted that. I hadn't felt anybody else calling to me like his image was.

Time stretched into infinity, waiting for his next appearance. I missed the first call, but I wouldn't miss the next.

When I saw him again, I didn't think. I only blinked. Breathed.

And surrendered myself to the man in the mirror. There was no other exit I was willing to take.

Mark my words.

Mark, my world.

It was at that moment I understood the concept of

Infinity.

And the room around me, all that was gray and oh so black and white, faded away.