Through The Looking Glass

She screamed and yelled.

She kicked and punched.

She scratched until she bled.

She cried ugly tears until her face bloated.

The image of herself crumbling stared back at her. The image on the other side haunted her.

People walked past the mirror as if it weren't there. It was as if they couldn't see her and the suffering, she endured every day. It was her personal hell, created by her wants and needs to prove to someone who didn't care that she belonged here.

Here, that word used to fill her with happiness and joy. It was where she had wanted to be since she learned about her identity. She wanted to learn more about something that could have easily been researched by reading books. Instead, she tried making a career out of it.

And now...

And now... she was stuck, forced into a timeless and endless eternity where every day was the same, where every day was a struggle, and where every day her pain grew.

She screamed and yelled.

She kicked and punched.

She scratched until she bled.

She cried ugly tears until her face bloated.

Nobody ever heard her. Nobody ever heard her.

Her box stayed the same. Small, cramped, and lonely. There were no bodies to warm her at night, no happiness and excitement to give her hope of a better tomorrow.

To those on the other side... It looked like a mirror, like any house mirror. There was nothing fascinating or special about it. They looked through it and saw what they wanted to see. They manipulated their image to be what they wanted it to be. They did this every day of the week, every day of the year.

However, she didn't know how. With limited knowledge on how to do it, she was lost.

She always saw herself. It showed her true colours. It saw the truth and purred its evilness into her soul. She couldn't manipulate it the way others could. Oh, she tried. God only knew how much she tried. She tried so hard.

Every day was the same. She looked into a dimension that nobody really knew about and prayed to manipulate what was in front of her. She never could.

She never could until it was one too many times.

Invisible hands reached out and grabbed her. In the next instance, she was just gone.

Imprisoned in another world, another fate, with no one to blame except herself.

The days began to sicken her.

She forgot who she was; the days blended one after another.

Her mind broke to the point where she became delirious.

How did she even get to this point in life?

She got fucked over. She got too cocky. Her pride took over, and she didn't know how to quit when the going got tough.

She hoped too many times.

Something that was once seen as an attribute of her personality was what made it her prison.

She screamed and yelled.

She kicked and punched.

She scratched until she bled.

She cried ugly tears until her face bloated.

She lost confidence in herself. Every day chipped a bit more at her soul. She didn't know what else to do. Was quitting an option at this point? Was it worth it?