Painful Mirror Image

Waking up seems to be the hardest part - It leads to the everlasting battle with the mirror. But this isn't the battle with "Am I too fat?" or "Do I need to lose weight" - the typical battle a girl refers to. It's no longer the outer appearance that matters. My reflection is no longer familiar. It's a distorted image that has been formed for me. One that I have little control over. As I gaze into my sparkling blue eyes they only appear grey to me. The brightness - the light - has left them - the liveliness of them has disappeared - no longer an ocean of color - but a storm cloud - a color? Or lack thereof? Nobody can see past the beautiful eyes they see - such sadness lies within. Sadness caused by secrets screaming to be let out - the secrets hold betrayal and lies within them. A secret pain lies within these once lively blue sapphires. A pain that controls me - no matter how much I don't want to let it. A pain that leaves my heart so ravaged - a pain that I want to wash down the drain with the water as it falls from the faucet to its final destination. A pain that causes such ambivalence.

Staring into the mirror - I try to peer into my soul for it is said that your eyes are the window to your soul -looking for answers - for something...beautiful? It cannot be found. My soul still sees what my human being has tried to forget. My soul still sees what I have kept secretly - painfully - under the surface. It sees the pain still lingering and shows me that my heart still continues to bleed. I have become so numb to the pain that it seemed to no longer exist - but when I peer into my losing life eyes - it's all that I see. I don't want to display an emotion - I don't want to be angry or sad even if it's what I'm feeling because questions are asked - questions that cannot be truthfully answered. So I am happy. All the time - for everyone to believe. They won't look deeper - they don't want to. If it's a smile they see - then that's good enough for them. My smile is painted on with beautiful perfection. The only perfection that I have within me.

Closing my eyes and opening them again I peer back into the reflector of all flaws that exist. My eyes grow duller, as if they had been faded like my favorite pair of jeans that I one too many times washed. It's like a wall is lifted from in front of them when it is only me who can see - and placed carefully back in place when others can see. The answers I seek come from an empty bottle - and once one's emptied - another one is opened - to wash away all of this "non-existing" pain. To help me try to erase, the darkness that I don't want to be afraid of - but even more so - to unetch that memory from my mind - to forget that face - to bring color back into the reflection of my eyes.