Silent Pantomime

Chapter 35 | Sad little rich girl

Chapter 35🌌:

Mirrors are strange objects. What are they really? Aren't they purely just the shards of glass that only show the mask, not the heart? Somehow everyone obsesses over them because our minds distort our mirrors.

Nothing is more pretend than a mirror, of course they can be your best friend by twisting in with your vanity; or you love them because they are the only one that you can cry in front of that doesn't laugh back - but what does that shard of glass tell about you? A mirror reflects your body, not your mind. A mirror only knows the thoughts you let it know.

One time my mum told me a story about a girl who obsessed over mirrors. She was one of those who looks for beauty first in a smile, instead of honesty. She had Miss. Monroe's blond curls that naturally twirled in ringlets down the side of her naturally clear complexion, and her heart lips complimented her rosy cheeks. She looked like a goddess. The stardust on her eyes however, could transform the splendour of the girl into sorrow, as it highlighted the diamonds that were about to fall from them.

Despite looking like she was sewn out of the fabrics of heaven, her beauty was corrupt.

The girl was desperately in love with a poorer boy who had nothing to offer but his dearest affection, however, she also had a rich boy whom she didn't love at all, who was desperately trying to sweep her off of her feet. An enchantress that the girl had encountered noticed her conceited nature, and offered her a deal. She was told that either she would marry the boy she loved and live a happy life, but would lose any beauty she had; or she would marry the rich man that she didn't love, and would live a much sadder life, but maintain the looks she already possessed.

For the girl, instead of the best parts of life being free, it was the opposite. Love and happiness were equal to looks and materialism in her eyes. On the final day that she had to make her decision, she just sat in front of her mirror. She just sat. She never moved from that position, she just sat in a chair with looks that could kill and a heart that didn't have the capacity to revive. Instead of marrying either of the men, she spent the rest of her days sobbing in front of a shard of glass. Never loved, never happy, just a sad little rich girl.

The catch is, my mum told me, is that she never had any beauty to lose, as she never had it to begin with.

That's why no one should ever stress about mirrors, because it never truly shows how beautiful you are.

***

I was stood looking at my reflection in the school's bathroom after my minor outburst at my friends, and the longer I stared at myself, the sicker I felt. The girl looking back at me may have been that sight for sore eyes that people talk about, but knowing that she was capable of something so dark cast a damning shadow over her.

What made it worse was that I didn't even know what it was. At some point the pretty girl of the glass had been covered in blood, and at another point she did something bad to another person.

People supposedly forget bad memories all of the time, quite simply because they do not want to get reminded of it - which is what annoyed me, because I wanted that reminder of what I had done. Two people had already mentioned to me about what happened to that little girl, so either I did something so awful that my mind did not want to remember, or my anger of the moment had completely throttled it out of my head. It doesn't matter which way though, I just needed to know the answers, instead of being reminded to forget.

My extreme frustration at it all was why I asked my friends all of those not-so-hypothetical hypothetical questions. I needed to know what they would have done if they found out about all of the bad things I had done, I needed to know if they would have told anyone, I needed to know if they would have still cared about me. They were the only people, apart from a mystery stalker, that were a huge part of my life. Sure, there is a big difference between affairs and murder, but they were both sins I was more than capable of.

The reason I asked what they would do if I died wasn't necessarily because I needed to know the answer, I just desperately wanted to know. I'd mentioned it to myself and my anonymous tumblr page numerous times, that my goal in life was never to live forever, because no one lives forever. Everybody at some point of their life will die, it is inexorable, so there is no point being scared about it. My goal in life was to create something that lives forever, because the stars would always remember and keep that legacy much longer than the earth ever would. So if I died tomorrow, I wanted to know if my friends would miss me, if they would be sad, what would they remember about me; because legacy was much more important than life.

I guessed in some ways I was very much like the sad little rich girl from my mum's story, as reputation for me went far beyond the grave, and damaging heart beats along the way was just a side effect.

Taking one last look at my reflection to contain myself, I took a deep breath. It was just going to be a waiting game from there to find out what chaos I had created, so all I could do was breathe.

Breathing isn't just a subconscious habit, because you can stop it when you feel like it. So focus on it more. All I was going to do that day was just breathe and smash up mirrors, because what else could I have done?