Shards of Me

By , philadelphia, PA
I hate when i see myself.
It's 12:50 and I'm in the bathrrom at school. The stale smell of those scratchy brown paper towels wafts to my nose as I stand at the sink, washing my hands. The water's scalding hot, and turns my hands red. I pump some soap in my hand sand was vigorously as if trying to scrub away the demons that are lurking up on me.
Gasping, and in near tears I shut the water off and grip the edges of the sink, blinking my eyes hard to rid away the the sudden rush of tears. And then, to my increasing horror, I do the one thing I never do when I'm alone. I look in the mirror.

At first, I see what all the rest of the worlds sees of me, on the surface. A plain looking anorexicaly thin girl, with short brown hair that looks like its been butchered to death. As I continue to stare myself down in the mirror, my harsh breathing the only sound the otherwise silent bathroom, I begin to lose myself, to succumb to the ghosts of my past who are determined to take control of me this time.





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