My head hurts, sometimes

When I was twelve I believed in the story of the Candyman who came through the mirror when you called him five times. I would never participate when others did it, and would always leave the room if they tried. Even when it didn't work, I still believed in it...

Then one day I faced the mirror in the elementary school bathroom and with a palpitating heart softly spoke, "Candyman, Candyman, Candyman, Candyman, Candyman." I hardly acknowledged that it was happening; when I realized what I'd done my heart beat faster. I felt weak. I stared at myself, determined... set on seeing him and feeling his blade cold before it split my neck open.

I still believe in the power of the mind. I refuse to think about spontaneous human combustion too hard because I'm afraid I'll burst into flame. But sometimes, I'm twelve again and facing the mirror... thinking about it without realizing it and willing it to occur.

Passion is what drives me forward, but it will also lure my Candyman when the time is right.