The Mirror

A guy dealing with insecurities and self hate.

 

                       I don't like it, my reflection. It is supposed to show me, but I don't see me. 

            When I look in the mirror, I see a man, but I feel like a boy. I feel weak and worthless. I bet the man I see feels the exact opposite.

He's strong and toned. He has long dark brown hair that fell just an inch above his shoulders- not a stand out of place, a firm jawline, and sea green eyes with speckles of umber brown.

      I look him with a look of envy and admiration and he looks back at me with a look of pity, shame, and disgust--embarrassed that we are the same person.

“Why do you have to be the one that everybody sees?” his tone is bitter. “You should be living in my shadow.”

                       I feel myself shrink under his words.

I fell to the ground and bring my knees to my chest. Panting heavily, rocking back and forth, my chest heaving rapidly, tears damping my cheeks.

                       “Look at you, you're a coward.” he teased.

                       “I'm not a coward,” I mumbled. “I’m not.”

                       He scoffed at my words. “Get up.”

 I wipe away the tears and stand up, my whole body trembling.

                       “Pathetic,” he said.

                       I let out a short breath. I am pathetic.

He looks at me with an angry expression.

I began clenching my jaw and fist. I want to punch him. He is clenching his jaw and fist too and his body tense. He wants to punch me.

             “W-w-why won't you l-l-leave?” I asked.

   “Why won't you?”

       “Because-.” he cut me off.

      “Nobody will miss you,” he began. “You’re nothing.”

His tone is condescending and cold, sending shivers down my spine.

   My once clenching hands are now tightly pressed against my ears protecting them from his abusive words, but it’s not working.

“No one loves you; no one cares about you. Why won’t you just disappear?”

           “Stop it!” I yelled, pressing my hands against my ears tighter.

            “You don’t belong anywhere, you’re a waste of space, you’re worthless, a pathetic fool, you’re weak.” his voice is growing louder.

           His words are slicing through me, trying to overpower me.

       I am whispering false reassurance to myself. “I am no fool; I belong here; and I am strong. I am strong.” 

              “You’re stupid.” 

My hands are still pressing against my ears; I’m crouching over, rocking back and forth begging him to stop. I began sweating- I can taste the salt in my mouth.

              “Please stop.”  I pleaded.

               But he doesn’t.

                “Stop,” I began repeating over and over.

               “Die.” he said in a low voice.

               “No.” I cried.

                       “Die!” he screamed, his eyes full of anger, hatred, and rage.

                       “No!” I yelled back.

The sound of glass shattering filled the room, ceasing the sound of everything else.

                 Broken glass replaces his image.

   I walk backwards, creating distance between the mirror and me, until my back hits the wall. When it does, I slide down to the ground, clutch my bleeding hand, and stare at the broken mirror.  

Reviews

[Kelsey]

I enjoyed how the opposite was happening from what most people experience. When we look mirror, we see our flaws and what we have to improve, not confidence and how great we are. This character sees the opposite, the mirror showing the confident version of him while a weaker version is on the inside. I would add more argument in the story and an insight to the boy's life. Make the bravery it takes to get rid of this negative confident version of himself evident. He wouldn't want to be the person in the mirror because of how hurtful he is, but he doesn't like who he is outside of the mirror either. Show merging between the two characters and how he's able to do this or feeling like it was a first step. Maybe there's a small flash of that hair out of the corner of his eye to end the story.

[Avoiry]

The reality of us versus the unbridled image of what we think we could be. A image is only a image and even if we wear it it's only a mask that covers us and our fears and our vulnerability. Beautiful examination of the conflict of being.