The Mirror Truth

The sunlight broke through the shades too early this morning, beckoning him to try it again. The heavy blankets held down a heavier heart, persuading him otherwise. He stared at the ceiling, watching his fear circle like vultures, waiting for the aftermath. He looked to the door; the door that was almost always closed. With a fling of courage, he tossed the sheets to the side, and his reservations with them. The carpet softened the blow as he swung his legs out into the room and stood up. He quickly rubbed his eyes and let them open again to the same reality he hoped to escape.
It's only 5 or 6 steps, he thought.
He lost track at 3, dreading the end of that walk, rather than the steps themselves. The door knob was like a boulder, scraping against his hand with it's cold and careless facade. One small push towards freedom; only a door swing to desperation. His image stared at him as though they had never met. It was ashamed of him, fighting to get away. And there he stood, for another morning, staring at the only thing that disgusted him so; and the only one who could change it.