The cool clean surface if the mirror reflecting back the fractured image of my broken mind,
The picture presented to me, I am told this is what I look like.
But I don't believe it.
The pale girl staring at me in the mirror could never hold this much hate in her eyes.
No. My presence is marked by the hollows beneath her eyes and the scars carved into her skin.
By the distance of her thoughts and the goose flesh no one sees beneath the sleeves of her too big sweatshirt.
All her sins are not her own, too much pain I've caused, worse still for the number I'm unable to count.
I've done so much to harm her. My most grievous sins, all weighted against her.
I've stolen her smile and spoken falsely through her lips.
She begged someone to help her, and I muted that voice.
I taught her to muffle her screams, and cries, after dark as her family slumbered, unaware of the trips we'd take to the bathroom.
I forced her to push away everyone around her so my existence would not be found out.
I have slowly, clinically, methodically, emptied her heart of emotions she felt and her eyes of tears she used to shed.
I have tempted tragedy by snaking her arm up her sleeve to scratch at the itching, bleeding scabs, knowing she might get caught.
I have forced her mind to stay awake as she begged for the freedom sleep would bring, escape from the exhaustion she couldn't shake free.
I have done all this and so much more.
And still no one sees me.
No one sees the pain I've caused, the damage I've done.
No one sees her struggle to overcome, how hard she tries- I almost feel sorry for her.
And no one sees.
They see the pale girl staring back at me in the mirror.
But she is not me.
YOU ARE READING
Not me. (2023)
סיפור קצרso, I've been struggling for a long time now, and I never told anyone about it. I've never opened up. but I met someone who understands how I feel, and I'm beginning to feel again. I don't know how to do it, but I finally feel I can fight. I've been...
