I hate this life. The mirror is slowly killing me. My face isn't symmetrical, my waist isn't skinny, and my skin is over tanned. I pinch myself to relieve the stress. Blood slightly sinking in to my nails as they deepen into my flesh. Pain numbs me. Nothing change, so I do it. The urge comes so suddenly. Crack! The slight pieces of glass stick into my knuckles, but I don't feel a thing.99Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡy9Dlk7JxdI
What just happened? My hands are pouring with blood. The mirror on the wall above the sink is cracked like a spider web shape. Scratch marks cover my body, red spots appear with a bit of sore on the surface. This is so painful. It's been happening for the past few months though......
"Honey, are you okay?!" my mom says loudly in shock. In the previous times, I only got mad at my reflections, at least that's what they told me. Every time these crazy situations actually happen, I feel like I was stolen. Not my personality but my body. Another person wants to share or even have it entirely. Sometimes, it does. Then I'm grabbed into this white, empty space. It's different there, time slows down, and I finally get to be alone.
Once I'm pulled back to what is now, I feel pain, embarrassment, and heavy sadness. Physically, I see a bruise slightly swelling and turning to a shade of sick purple or worse. Today is "so far," yes I did emphasize on that, the worst. The dark emotions, not from me but in my mind, flash through my mind. All I have is imperfection..."Ahh!" I screamed while those ideas blew past me like the wind. Why am I like this? I feel embarrassed about myself, which I don't, the entire me. That doesn't make sense though. I feel embarrassed? No, I don't. Wait, do I?
The next morning, I got to school. These events never happened in school. Daily social life runs along even more important than subjects and classes sometimes. Everything in school is an easy A, except for social life. There's no practice, no chance to simply try. It's not a test, you can't go back to check your answers. Still, you couldn't reply too slow either. One wrong move, you may be out for the whole school year.
"Ding!" the bell runs. I'm going home.
I belt out, "I'm home!" Through the empty, echoing home, only my dog is here. I'm always so afraid of hurting my dog with all these things happening. It is the best one, the one who gets me. My dog shares all times with me, happiness, anger, and sadness. I touch it's fur along the direction it grows with slight tangles in between, "You're so adorable!"
Something is not right.
Again I was pulled away from the real world. I'm in the white box in my mind. Separated another time I was.
Stupid Fiona in school today. That freaking popular kid, I never get why. Just because she's pretty, so what? She's always like, "Please, can I have it?" With her little selfish filled watery, bright eyes, making people feel bad. People watch, everybody does. Always expecting me to give her my lunch. I only had toast and salad for lunch today. She took it. Never did I dare to refuse. What could happen? Anything. 99Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMWJy7ZxTi5
I took out the first thing I can find from the fridge, ketchup. Squeezing out of its container, stepping on it with my feet. I throw it to the window, and red marks are left. Myself. That's what I saw in the reflection. Thoughts. That's what is there.99Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡp8fSKJgnqg
If I'm not so ugly, would this happen? If I was more popular, will boys stand up for me instead? Do I look pathetic in others' eyes? What if I didn't give my lunch to her? Would it be social suicide? People will instead say that I'm mean and selfish right? Why do I look like this? It's definitely this problem.99Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxsxROZbBLQ
More come, until...99Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡivydmZYfdR
My dog is gently licking on my foot because of the ketchup. Why is there this mess? It looks at me with a concerning look. It's not the kind that feels bad. That look feels like I'm cared and related to. My dog makes me feel safe and protected with love.
Gosh! It happened again. I have to clean all this up before Mom comes back.
TO BE CONTINUED
ns 15.158.61.54da2
