There she is. The stranger in the mirror. She looks like me and she's mimicking my movements. But she isn't me;she can't be.

Those eyes blazing gold with specks of gray and red. To most people, those eyes were beautiful jewels. But I know the truth. Those eyes are nothing like jewels-they are like two ravenous hyenas, laughing and enjoying their hatred towards the world.

On the contrary, my eyes are greenish-gray with specks of purple and pink. These eyes are mysterious and sweet at the same time as being, captivating and perplexing. My eyes used to have a calming effect on some people, but the eyes I have now just rev people up for a party. I'm not a party girl; well not until I got smacked.

I don't mean physically- smack is another word for heroine.

Just 3 months ago, my life was absolutely perfect. I would read, write, study, and go to the mall almost everyday. My boyfriend was class president. I was homecoming queen. My name is Mary Varaness. I was the most popular girl in school. Everyone thought I had it made. Boy, were they wrong.

My mom has had thirty-seven different jobs and my dad left when I was four. Starting this year, my mom was working as a bartender. At the same time, my mom was going to the therapist and was coming home with prescription drugs, like Aderol. One night, she came home with heroine from some guy at the bar. She told me about how good it made her feel, and the buzz she got. She suggested I should try it. Yes, my mom suggested that I take drugs.

Since I was deathly afraid of needles, I snorted it. It burned my nostrils and shot through my head trying to reach my brain. In an instant it was there. I was as high as a kite. It felt amazing.

Soon, I was taking smack everyday. Before school, during lunch, after school, and I would wake up in the middle of the night to take it. It became apart of my routine. But this choice had consequences. I started acting differently and I found a new group of friends-the stoners. My grades started slipping an I got kicked out of my mom's house. My boyfriend broke up with me and my best friend stopped talking to me.

But I did smack anyways.

Here I am now, doing my hair and makeup. The stranger in the mirror is still there, mimicking my movements and laughing at me with her eyes.

But in sad realization, she isn't a stranger- she's me.


The person I've become.