Myself Misplaced

September 10, 2011
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Sometimes I can still find her, the little girl with big brown eyes and long curly hair. She peers in the mirror as foreign to me as I am to her. I catch glimpses of her as I let out my long braids and shake out the waves as I push my hair from my face. Our eyes are still the same: large and deep deep brown, clear, somber, that fleck with light when we are happy.
These eyes are what settle me as I search desperately for her. Seeking out something to let me know the world has stayed the same. When I can't find her I struggle to remember a time I was not alone; when the anger didn't consume me so thoroughly. The memories of riding on my father's shoulders lost in the yelling. The little girl's mommy sings her lullabies and strokes her hair until she falls asleep. My mother screams as the tears drown my cheecks.
Am i who the little girl hoped to grow into? When I see her I remember how she loved to run and play, I remember how red her cheeks became as she laughed. She could charm any strager and make friends with anyone she met. She promised Mommy to always love her and to stay sweet forever.
There was no trace of her as I looked in the mirror that night. My dark hair pulled back exposing my big lonely eyes, my forehead and jawline almost regal. I smiled slightly as I realized again that there is a strange sort of beauty in sadness.
Late one autumn evening when the dusk was falling just above the trees I walked home from a dance class. It was just beginning to grow colder, only warm enough to be comfortable in a scarf. The leaves skirted around my ankles and periodically snapped under my feet in greeting.
I passed a mirror on my way up the stairs once I reached the house and was surprised by my reflection. My hair always so carefully pulled back had curled from the heat in the dance studio. My cheeks were a warm red and my eyes were bright from the cold autumn air. That's when I saw her, our expressions were so similar a content sort of pleasure.
She waves at me boldly and I shyly wiggle my fingers back at her. Moving away from the mirror I tuck the escaped curls behind my ears. When I look back I see her sashaying away, her hips moving languidly imitating my same fluid walk.

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This article has 4 comments. Post your own now!

Summerland said...
Sept. 16, 2011 at 9:13 am
Beautiful! I love it :D
paigeturner9 This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Sept. 15, 2011 at 5:55 pm
this is so well written!
AlwaysDanceInTheRain said...
Sept. 15, 2011 at 3:04 pm
That was an amazing story! I absoulutely loved it! So much emotion! The one thing I would say though is when you say "There was no trace of her in the mirror that night" It sounds like it's foreshadowing some catastrophic event that happened "That night." You could either continue the story or just take out that line, but other than that I loved it!!
MusicMovement said...
Sept. 15, 2011 at 2:03 pm
This is amazing! You're a really talented writer. Keep it up!
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