Mirror Mirror

Sad, and sentimental.

Why was I born this way? I don't know either. My lime green eyes move down, scanning my arms and legs, looking at my overly large psoriasis spots. The girl in the mirror is there again, the girl who comes to bully me everyday, and when I see her I jump away, knocking down the towel rack in the process. The bathroom door is closed, so I know that the next words that come my way are from her.
           

“You are the most hideous thing I have ever laid eyes on,” my reflection leers. She’s got her normal look on her face, a mixture between hatred and disgust. “Your parents are always laughing at you. Their disgusted to have such an ugly daughter. I'm disgusted to just  be the mere reflection of such an ugly monster.” And I know that is true. I can barely see my reflection now, because my eyes have filled with salty tears. I brush my hair and then silently walk to my room. The room that I stay in hasn't been painted yet, so it is still its original gloomy gray.  I love it. I think that the gloomy color keeps me concealed in my room, which is where I need to be to stay away from bullying, from harsh comments. Not that it helps. I'm still bullied by my reflection, and my mind. I look in my bedroom mirror, which is nailed to the wall, the mirror my parents are too lazy to take out. I hate mirrors. Every time I look in one, my reflection is making fun of me. Just like she is now. “ You are so stupid! Nobody likes you. You should just get over it.” I throw my book Anne of Green Gables at the mirror. Its pieces scatter through my room. She laughs on. She laughs on forever.

“ Stop laughing at me!” I yell at her. “ Stop!”
She gets louder. I leap over to the mirror. The few shards on the mirror show her face. Shes got a smug look on her face. I grab both sides of the mirror, tear it off the wall, and throw it at the window. SMASH! The mirror hits the window, causing it to shatter. In moments, my parents are at my door, over shocked looks on their faces. They walk in, and look at the damage I've done. The large hole in the wall from the mirror. The mirror shard all throughout the room. The window and how it barely has any glass on it anymore. My mother walks out of the room, and she looks like she's in a trance. My father gives me a glare, and runs up to her and guides her down the stairs. My hands feel warm. I look at them, and  my eyes widen at the sight of the blood from the broken mirror. I go to wash my hands. No girl in the mirror this time. I am now in control.
I feel something warm and cozy spreading through me, starting from my heart, and making its way to my fingertips and toes. The moths break free of the cage that is my mind, and transform  into butterflies. The 500 tonne backpack of stress falls off my shoulders. I know that I'm feeling my freedom.

Author's Note

Don't judge me, I'm only 14. Please comment on what you thought.

Reviews

[Wayne Rockmore]

This is a pretty decent story with a powerful theme that I believe most young people can relate to, as well as older people remembering the hypersensitive nature of being a teenager and the constant concern about appearance.

Just one spelling error that I noticed in the 3rd line of the 2nd paragraph, "Their disgusted to have such an ugly daughter" ought to be "They're disgusted to have such an ugly daughter.

It's quite a good story, Aletha. Sad, emotional, with a sense of a genuine triumph happening at the end. Interesting though that the breaking of the mirror, destroying the other "her," doesn't change herself at all, and one wonders if that action will in fact have any real positive consequences for the character, or if it was just a temporary, symbolic victory for her. It's a fascinating, complex psychology you've depicted. Excellent work!

[Aletha]

Thank you very much.