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the mirror-- prose

nothingontheinside

By nothingontheinside
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nothingontheinside

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I dont know if this is in the right section...

 

 

She turns it over in her hand. Again and again as it glistens in the small amount of light coming from the window that she had boarded shut with her hate. Now there is no light for her to even see her distorted image in the mirror. She stands up; her guilt-stricken heart sinks as she looks upon the object in her hand. She sets it down on the bed as she walks over to the full-length mirror. She steps up really close to examine her face. The look in her eyes shows her loneliness, though she's confused because she loves to be alone, and jet she yearns to be with someone that for once loves her and doesn't push her away. The small pimples on her face seem to bulge out so that everyone can see, she wants to cover them up and the urge to cut them off comes accross her. Her nose is too big, it takes up her whole face. Her frown seemed never to turn around in the truth of being happy. She uses her eyes of isolation to stare up at her hair, sweaty, plastered to the face of the once beautiful girl. No longer beautiful in the eyes of this forever distorted world. Her imprecise fingers reach up to her imperfect face in the mirror, as she brushes her hair back. Her hand slowly goes back down as she now sees the rest of her body. She steps back. Her eyes now having adjusted to the dim light near the mirror, she focused on the reflection of the rest of her hideous body. Her legs, too fat and too short; her stomach, of course, seemed to overflow over her sweat pants. She was way to wide, and her stomach started to hurt and she felt like she was going to vomit out of disgust. Tears were slowly pushing their way upwards into her vision. The room seems to get smaller and the ceiling feels as if it were to collapse onto her. Her insides start to shake as the world becomes even more indistinct than it was before. Anger fills her mind. Why can she not be the perfect person she's been trying to be her whole life? Why can no one see how hard she is trying to be accepted! Her parents just look down on her scars and shake their heads. She is so misunderstood and unaccepted for who she is or who she wants to be. Her fists clench as she doesn't only become angrier, but her whole body starts to shake and she feels like going back to her bed and lifting up her new possession. A new gun. The better part of her tells her no as the room starts to spin. It spins as if she were dancing around like she used to do when she was little, seeing how dizzy she could become. She held onto the wall with both hands on either side of the mirror. So much more frustration now than ever before. She's angry, upset and disappointed with herself. She thrusts her right fist against the glass as it melts like liquid around her knuckles, cutting them before the shattered glass hits the floor. Along with the blood and glass, her tears fall, as she slowly falls to her knees. Her knees hit the broken glass with such force it caused her pants to rip a bit, cutting her knees open. Sobbing, she picks up two large shards of glass and throws them against the wall. The small pieces she picks up and inspects. She picks out the sharpest one and runs it accross her wrist as softly as a butterflies kiss. Then harder as the pain grows to more and more and her body becomes number and number. The blood is spilled. This is just another day, another way to make the pain go away. She takes a deep breath and cleans up her mess, tears still rolling down her face, but who cares? Why is she even wasting her time writing this?

 

say whatever u think

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