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Mirror, Mirror On The Wall Pt.1

This is what I am. This is who I am. I am the girl that the guys fall too hard for and end up getting hurt because I cannot return those feelings. I am one of those cursed girls, you know, the one many adore and few hate. With eyes that could capture anyone’s attention. I am the one whose smile could brighten anyone’s day. And yet, I still cannot understand why they all stare at me. Is it my hair? Is it my clothes? Well, I do have an out-there sense of style. But tell me, what kind of girl could possibly be the center of attention so much? The girl who sleeps around? That is not me, no matter what they say. The girl who keeps the relationship for the so-called "chinks"? No, I could never be so selfish. Maybe, and this is just a guess, maybe I am the outcast. The one who keeps to herself and shuts everyone away because I cannot stand to have anyone worry about me, even though I know my silence causes him or her to worry. I believe “The Silence Will Set Her Free" meaning, if I remain quiet, no one will hurt me. They tell me I am wrong, very wrong. I still want to believe in fairy tales and nothing will stop me from believing.

"But," I think to myself as I pass everyone to my sixth period class, "If the word "lie" is in the word "believe" then how can I trust anything?"

I wonder, I analyze, and I write out my feelings. I wonder why the symbol of love is a rose, when a rose dies. Is that symbolizing nothing lasts forever? I want, no, I yearn to trust differently. There are things that last forever; I just have yet to find them. It seems young relationships will not last, for all my pasts are exactly those. The past. Something, something I have yet forgotten, and yet forgiven. Something I cannot do. They hurt me. They made me the way I am now. The lies, the hatred, the jealousy, the beatings, the pushing, the touch, the kiss, and the poison on his lips. It all made me much too afraid to get close to anyone anymore.

"Are they all like that? Are they all so hateful towards an innocent girl?" I whisper quietly in second period of the next day as silent tears stream down my pretty face, making my cheeks red and puffy.
?

No one pays attention to me; no one cares to look over at me and just smile. They are all too consumed in what happened with their own lives to bother with this one, lone girl. Perhaps if I suddenly became invisible they would never notice? Perhaps if I just left a note on all my desks saying I would never return, maybe then would someone go out searching for me?
It is the end of the day, I barely remember it. Did I have homework? Oh well, I call around and ask. None tonight, though being alone seems to be a good assignment for me since I do it nightly. I glance back at my calendar, the one that is still stuck on September of 2009. I sigh.
“Why can’t I bring myself to change that date…” I sigh again, tears filling my eyes as clouded memories begin to surface once again, another daily thing that happens.
I tear in two, I lie awake, and the moon lights up my room like day, another night I’ve spent alone, without his touch of skin so cold. Then I remember what he said. He said he would come back for me, no matter what.
"I will not let him take me away..." I sniffle.
Alone on my bed made for two, I grip a picture in my hands tightly, creasing the memory of the boy I fell in love with, the one I knew before, not the one I know now. He is not the boy I spent countless hours online with just sitting there because any kind of contact with him was enough for me. I gave myself up to him. I gave up everything for him. My countless hours of writing and reading, I would have done so well if I would have stayed with those and left him. I would have probably already had my first book published, let alone finished even one, but no. I decided he was more important than some stupid novel that could have gotten me farther. So now, I lost my chance, and now I lost my hopes and dreams. But, what is a dream? Is a dream just that? A dream. A far away thought that one can only think about and wishes it comes true? Well, the saying goes “A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes” and that is what I have come to follow. I sit at the computer, my music blaring around me blocking out any and all existence of any outer world distractions from my little world in my mind. That little world with a checkered ground and a striped sky where the fishes fly and the birds can swim. It is my personal little “wonderland” and the one place I can escape to as long as there are no distractions. A place where I will talk, everything will listen to my every word, and the trees and animals will respond and help me. Almost like a diary, it is where I keep everything personal, because I cannot trust anyone. If it is locked away inside a place no one can get to, only then will it remain safe. Only I will know it. Only I can read it, and remember it. I will close my eyes, turn up my music to the fullest extent, and let my mind free. It is the one place I am not judged for being different.?

When you hear the word Mortal, you think of human, correct? Human means you were born from a creation of male and female and will live then die when your time comes. No exceptions. But what happens when you are born from male and female, but you are different? What if you were like me? I was born a mortal, destined for a life through Hell. The nightmares tell of what is to come. The dreams are only happy wishes. And the visions… Vivid realities of what will happen.

People will say, “Oh, those are normal. They happen all the time.”

They are wrong and this is what has happened to the girl who cannot control her own life. A mere puppet for her master’s selfish mind games, which made her unsteady in all aspects of being a female. I have only lived for a mere sixteen years, with no control, and with so many limits. No it is not from my mother. But then again it is not really a person, though it is a he, he is not a person he is not of this world. Something that if let free, he would wreak havoc on the world. Much too difficult for all to understand. The funny thing is: before I found my world, I had other aspects and methods. Self-destruction is how I let all my problems out. Listen to this little statement, and correct me if I am wrong. “Every girl has one; that little bit of fake in her just so she strives through the day without being asked questions. But have you ever thought what happens when she goes home and she is all alone with no one to smile for? Here are some possibilities: she eats. She cries. She cuts. She shoots injections. She pops pills. She drinks. She smokes. She sells her body out because the pleasure takes away the pain. She just buries herself deeper into a hole. No one really sees past that fake smile, or those long sleeves that covers the marks and bruises, for a very long time. It is not until she is so vulnerable, so broken that she just shatters where everyone sees.” That is what happens. I just built up more and more of this so call fake happiness until I could not take it anymore. Then, when I finally could not stand it anymore, when all of those bottled up emotions just released themselves with no warning, I broke down. No. I absolutely shattered.



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pageturner This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
May 24, 2010 at 6:47 pm:
I like the way how your writing has so many emotions, yet your main character seems detached from feelings. Keep writing
 
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