Since the beginning of it all,
I have felt incoherent, like my destination was nowhere in sight.
I know I was created for greater be,
that would help me discover my true destiny,
but something must have gotten disconnected while being stuck in the middle.
The middle, where day by day I go through the motions,
forced to spend my hours somewhere unsafe and cold,
with no point of return.
My only escape is the few hours in which my eyes are closed and I can dream of reaching the end.
Of reaching that final destination, where no worries lie and my wait is over.
The other month, I went up to my mother and asked her a bold question.
"What makes me who I am?"
Mother, with her graying hair and dark circles, was a women who always rushed through the motions,
not really knowing how to deal with the present world either.
She exhaustedly replied, "Because you are unlike anyone else, my dear." as she grabbed her liquid remedy and scurried downstairs, away from me, the girl who reminds her of her mistakes.
Confused of what this meant, I apprehensively trudged to the spotty bathroom mirror.
As I peered into the warred glass, I saw a face of a young girl,
with light hair and heavy burdens,
big dreams and no motivation,
hopeful eyes and a scared heart.
As I gazed at that young girl, I heard my mind whispering to me words of toxic.
"You are nothing special, girl. Just look at you. You are unoriginal, boring, stupid. Prepare to live this way forever."
I tried to ignore what my mind said.
But I couldn't.
In a panic, I frantically scanned my mother's bedroom for scissors.
Finally finding some old unused sewing scissor her dull wooden nightstand, I traveled back to the mirror.
Reaching behind my scrawny back, I picked up a clump of my long, light hair.
I squeezed the strands between my two fingers, closed my eyes, and opened and closed the scissors across the hair.
I felt the weight of the strands leave my head and hit the soiled carpet.
Gaining courage, I cut more and more strands.
I cut my hair until it was up to my ear.
Opening my eyes again, I looked back at the girl in the mirror.
The same girl stood.
I dropped to the floor, sobbing, knowing that the evil voices in my mind would continue if this girl still stood.
I was defeated.
For a while after that day, I tried to block out the voices, fill my mind with happy thoughts.
But the demon trapped in my mind outshone all other thoughts.
Onward and forward, continuing, going through the motions, I went,
praying for the thoughts to go away.
The sad thing is they never did, instead this toxic cloud in my mind grew bigger and darker.
Until one day I had enough of these thoughts. I could no longer be controlled by them.
I sprinted upstairs and bursted into my mother's bedroom.
I glanced once more at the spotty mirror,
until I knew I could not anymore.
I clenched both of my pale, bony hands, into fists so tight my knuckled turned white,
and smashed them into the frail mirror.
I felt the shards slowly sink into my skin on my hands as the glass shattered into a million pieces.
I dropped to the floor once more.
As I looked down at my hands, I saw crimson seeping from them.
The crimson color was leaving as if they were the bad thoughts were escaping from my wounds.
Then, a sigh of relief hit me, as the toxic thoughts in my head escaped, happiness reappeared.
This was only temporary though.
Mother got a new mirror.
This time she said I better not break it.
But when I look into it, I see the black clouds entering inside me as they once did before,
and now,
I know what I must do.