I stand staring into blank hazel eyes. They look sad. Like someone who knows how painful life can be. Her pink lips are turned downward and the brown hair falls in a cascade around her shoulders. She is I. She is not beautiful. She stares back at me, taunting. This is the body you are trapped in. This is what people see. This is the cover that you are judged by. And all of a sudden, her face is cracked and my fist drips blood. The mirror knows all. It understands. So I lash out and shatter it into a million pieces.
May 12, 2011