AN: So I've been trying to get on track with writing and actually… you know… write something, anything. The prompt I found at a website to help with creative writing. The Prompt was: You wake up and go to the bathroom and look into the mirror and there is a different face starring back you. I did not expect it to go in this direction at all… In fact I had an idea of a nice sci-fi story where the character is not at all surprised to see a different face, since it is a normal occurrence for him to drift into other people or dimension. Or a nice tale of Magic where there is a person in the mirror and it is its own reality… and honestly I still might try and go back and do that, but somehow, when I started writing, this is what wanted to be said… and honestly… I don't know where it came from… I've never been in a situation similar to this, or have known anyone who has dealt with it… but I guess when it comes to finding your muse, beggars can't be choosers… and I'm kind of proud of what I came up with. I apologize if it's riddled with errors either with spelling or grammatically. Constructive criticism is always welcome, just don't be mean about it.
I am confused by the person I see starring back at as I look into the mirror. There is no way that the face I am looking at belongs to me. I would not have let it get to that. I would have seen it progressing... I would have stopped things. The person looking back at me does not have eyes that shine with happiness and mirth in their chocolate depths. The person looking back at me does not have long mahogany silken hair that reaches mid-back without a split hair to be seen. The person looking back at me does not have a smile etched onto her face. The person looking back at me does not have any trace of happiness anywhere on her face. No the person looking back at me has two black eyes. A bruise forming along her jaw line. She a split lip, crooked nose and a hand print on the opposite cheek of the bruise. She has flat dull brown eyes. She has black hair cut into a pixie style with stitches peeking out at different spots along her scalp. She has almost permanent tear stains down her bruised cheeks. It is impossible for this person starring back at me from the mirror is me.
But it is... and I don't understand how I came to be this person. I used to be the happy girl, with a grin etched always into my mouth. Eyes shining with mirth, hair that I took pride in, I still find it hard to believe I'm not still her. How did I not see him taking away who I was piece by piece until after they were gone? Did love really blind me? Or was he just that good of a manipulator that he could do this to a person without them realizing it until it was too late? Did I see it and just refuse to believe what was right in front of me in the name of pride and refusing to acknowledge that they were right and I was wrong? Did I start to actually believe the things he said to me to make me feel like I was lucky that he was with me rather than know absolutely that I deserved better? Was it a combination of it all? Yes. It must have been a combination.
Shame now is the dominant expression on the face looking back at me. I know how she feels. I feel just as shameful as she does. Shame that I let it get this far. Shame that I let it happen at all. Shame that I refused to listen to the people around me. Shame that when I go to them, they're going to know just what I let him do. Shame at how weak I apparently am. Shame that I was too stupid to really see what was happening until waking up in a hospital.
Now the girl in the Mirror is angry. Like she can hear the thoughts in my head and mad at me for thinking such things. Angry at me for having to think such things. Angry at the person who put those marks on her. Angry at herself for letting him do it, but the anger is O. K. for now. It's better than the shame.
Now the Girl has a look of determination on her face. I like this look. She'll show them. She'll make up for her weakness... She'll take that weakness and turn it into strength. She used to be a strong person, and she will be again. She always was. The difference between the strong and the weak is not who becomes a victim and who doesn't. The difference is what they do after they've been the victim. Do they tuck their tail and stay a victim or do they move on and learn to laugh again? Learn how to live and how to love. Love not only themselves but other people. Learn to trust. Learn to be happy. That's how you truly tell the strong from the weak. If she can be strong, so can I. I can learn how to be happy again. How to laugh, how to love, how to trust, how to smile for no reason again. It may take a while, and it will be a struggle, but I will be strong and I will be that happy person that used to look back at me from the Mirror.
And really... what better way is there to say a big FUCK YOU to James than to be a stronger version of the girl he destroyed. I smile at that thought. The girl in the Mirror smiles back at me.
