MirrorA Story by RachelleThere is more to a mirror than reflection.I blinked once. I blinked twice. Every time I closed my eyes, even for that split second, I wished that I would change, that I would be pretty, that all my blemishes would disappear. I blinked again. No change. Collectively my body slumped, like the elastic band that was pulled taut around my wrist suddenly released. It takes a moment before I could even bear to look at myself. I flinched. I am small and silver.
I hover there before her. The girl stares into my depths, searching. Searching
for something, anything but her own face that she believes to be so grotesque.
I can only show her an honest, exact image.
I bear no need for furnishings or other decor. What I reflect is truth, the
final depiction.
Slowly I raised my head. The moment my gaze fell upon my reflection, I fought the immediate reaction to recoil. Taking a deep breath I steadied myself. I stared dead straight. I looked into the depths of my own eyes. The large black pupils, surrounded by a steel blue. My only decent physical trait. But yet, even my most favourable attribute is imperfect. My eyes are empty. With glimpses of pain and suffering flickering through them with the light. I stared into one eye, saddened, at the sight of the black of my pupil leaking down into the untainted colour below. She holds back tears
with great difficulty. A sharp intake of breath and an aggressive fidget of
uncomfortable hands. I try to show her
the beauty before me. Clearly showing every detail of her sparkling blue eyes,
filled with care and attention. I am persistent, I cause the light to dance
across her eyes. But no, a lone tear escapes the corner of her pristine eyes
and leaves a trail along her cheek.
I raised a hand to dry my tear. Pausing, I traced a finger as gentle as a feather across my lower lip. I smiled, a gentle smile. Turned my lips up ever so slightly at the corners. But the momentary facade did not last long before the smile gradually dissipated back into my neutral expression. I shook my head gently, the soft copper curtain of hair swaying gently in the movement. Falling across my eyes. The girl looks lost
now, she tries to find herself, tracing her face gently to find where the path
left off. She finds it, the edges of her soft pink mouth. Almost happy with
herself she smiles! A joyful moment indeed. With relief I try to reflect how
beautiful she looks but it is almost impossible to capture it fully. I did not
succeed....her smile drops as the pretty girl returns to hiding behind her
flamed hair. I stared. I identified and noted every single blemish and imperfection. Catalogued each and every one to an ever growing mental list. One that tormented me daily. I fell to my knees. The tears come pouring from my eyes.I pull at the short hair, I claw at my face and arms with the remains of nails that have seen much stress. A moment of silent quivering as my shoulders shake with the fear of a thousand thoughts unspoken. Just when I think the
girl is improving, she falls. A scream that nearly shatters my surface escapes
her. I watch, disturbed, as the frustrated and angered hands claw desperately
at skin, pull harshly on clumps of shimmering hair. Once again I reflect it
all, hoping the girl will see it and stop. A moment of silence, the girl shakes
quietly. I watch horrified. The eyes of a world. © 2013 RachelleAuthor's Note
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Added on May 24, 2013Last Updated on May 25, 2013 Tags: depression, mental illness, short story, young adult, confidence, self esteem, mirror, point of view, sickness, vanity, beauty, struggle Previous Versions AuthorRachelleNarnia, IrelandAboutI hope to improve my writing skills so fingers crossed. I write mostly CSI and mental illness based short stories. But am currently working on a book. Comments and reviews will always be much appreci.. more..Writing
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