Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

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When a mirror crosses my path I avoid it! I do not own a single mirror. Such a device does not exist in my room. When I look in the mirror, I can pick apart the different layers and see my eyes my mind; it helps me to hide the inner most layers of paint, of lies, I tell myself each day, of hopes and dreams that were happiness, excitement, love, passion, obsession, hope, dreams, loneliness, confusion, curiosity, anger, suppressed fury, and sadness. The inner layers of my subconscious include self-hate living in my sister’s shadow, being dejected and forever lost. These layers are my beautiful disasters. They are my breakdowns. When I look long enough in the mirror I want to smash it. Memories of illness that is permanent and the things I can’t change overwhelm me. The worst part is that nothing I can say or do will change it. I don’t want to be that sad girl who is brittle and fragile and clearly not all there. When I look long enough at this wall of truth I see exhaustion, I see the wanting of dreams to come true. I tell lies to myself that what I dream will come into reality.
I see in the mirror what I cannot change. I will always be second best! When I see the silver device again I want to shatter it. Destroy it. Melt it. Shatter it. A mirror has a long list of stereotypes. Be this fake entity. I have to look nice, thin, sexy, porcelain doll perfect. [Insert name here ] is trapped in this idea of me becoming this perfect person. I want to understand how I broke [ ] porcelain image, I actually shattered it – broke out of that stage, I have no long lived in this way , and in return now, I look into the memories, and I see failure, someone struggling to go to bed each night and not hate myself.

This sudden knowledge that no one can love me if I don’t love myself first.
When I glance at myself, I’m curious am I that ugly, tired thing? Why should I even care any longer? Everyone expects these things from me when I want to live in a world where none of those frivolous things matter. A mirror is quite a dangerous friend for once you lose sight of what is important you see only skin deep. Now when I look in the mirror, I love my aqua outfit I love my eyelashes, all I wonder how is who will love me back, more specifically will he? Respect me, pile up and pull apart my thick intricate layers. After that you must still love me despite and in spite of myself. That happy girl, content and lovely the one I once was, maybe he can capture and release what he sees – an exquisite, intelligent, ambitious, tender, gentle, wild, unpretentious – the jungle of qualities that make me.

When I look in the mirror for a third time, someone is behind me. Wow, Maria I never knew you were one of those girls. I’m not, I said. I just like watching the physical breakdown, I thought Hollywood tells us what we should look like. I only want to be myself today, tomorrow, forever. When I look in the silver slab of honestly, I remember what someone once told me. Don’t hide and be yourself. Do not care what other people think. Even though the mirror can’t lie, an interpretation is left up to the eye of the beholder. When the mirror and I cross paths, I see that first day at the hospital. Only I see that girl who gets her heart ripped from inside her everyday, that girl who has to pick herself up without aid from anyone and say – you can do it, why care about the past – go out there and show them. Understand. Love. Find the line try never to cross it. Pull yourself together. The only person that “mirrors” my emotions with wise words and a gentle tone – [ ] When I see his face, I don’t need a mirror – I see a smile which I am certain has crept across my face. What I need is already inside me. It is how you use it, that knowledge that makes a world of difference.

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