Rated T because I'm an ass like that. No? Let's try again. Rated T due to stress, self-hatred, self harm, depression, cursing, and weird metaphors my brain came up with. See? I'm betting you like the first reason more.

Summary: hell is a place filled with mirrors and you can't close your eyes. – lost one's weeping; lenrinrinto

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize here isn't my property. Except for a few excerpts from my writing tumblr.

Author's Note: Hi, hello, hi, I'm finally back after a really really really long dry spell =)) This is word vomit. As in... literal word vomit. I just kinda focus on the feels and the images, so this may come off as confusing. And I'd be alarmed if anyone can understand this =))))

Spoiler alert: Len and Rinto are both Rin's reflection(s?). In case you are wondering.

i.

There was once a girl with eyes like mirrors and tears like diamonds, a girl with flower crown in blonde hair and words like silk.

"I love you," he whispered it like a secret, smoke curling in his hands, ice pooling around his feet, "I love you, don't ever forget that."

"Yes," she agreed easily, "yes, you do." And I, you, but don't ever say that out loud, don't ever speak it in the air; the walls have ears darling, so hush and swallow it inside; lest your words come true.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," pale hands placed on his side of the mirror, his forehead pressed against chilly glass. "I love you."

"Goodbye, Len." She twisted a blonde strand in long fingers, eyes glassy with unshed tears and blue thoughts; Rin is always a dim silhouette in glitter air. "Goodbye, goodbye you liar."

ii.

You avoid thinking too much about yourself, and that was okay

until it isn't.

You'd like to smile a little every morning and mumbling a little spell, "I'm okay, I'm beautiful," only for the world to squash it into crumbling diamond dust in your palms. You wake up and watch around, and see and appreciate beauty in everything but the mirror, in what it reflects back, don't you see?

You are a masterpiece waiting to happen.

iii.

He smiled like the sun and for a moment, she couldn't breathe. For a moment, she really thought, is this me?

No you dumb child, it isn't. Her windpipe clenched tightly, bones shuffled and rearranged, forever shifting away; Rin drowned in crystal sea, stretching thin into nothing, the gap between them longer than her yearning fingers.

It's like revisiting an old mistake, the way she could see any little detail without even trying too, every inch embedded into her brain, searing white.

No, stupid girl. If he really was you, why would his skin be lacking your scars. A Greek statue, all inhuman beauty and perfection, something she had always been chasing but never really touched.

(How does it feel to be beautiful?)

(How does it feel to be wanted?)

(How does it feel to be able to feel?)

"I love you," Rinto breathed, frost patterns cried on the mirror. She'd like to crush the glass surface, watch it as it break, watch his face as it stain red with her blood, watch the future morph into something closer, something real.

"No you don't," her fingers lingered on his face, Rinto's smile turned razor sharp, an ugly sneer; her mind reeled with the speed.

"No, I don't," he nodded condescendingly, radio silence pouring out of him like gun powder. "I hate you, really, but you already know that, don't you."

(She did, but it still hurt hearing the truth so frankly.)

"I hate you."

"We just established that fact."

"Why can't you ever disappear?" It's not a question, not really. "Why can't you all just leave me alone?"

Rinto glanced at her, eyes scrutinizing, but never answered

(That's okay. She didn't really expect one anyway.)

iv.

Pulling you apart wasn't hard, because you didn't have many layers. A part of you wanted to curl up and shut everyone out, worried about everyone. A part of you wanted to be found and told "everything's going to be okay" even though it wouldn't.

And you are confused, because you aren't sad. You aren't crying. You are not glorious girl shattering your wrist (one thing you never are is glorious), you aren't losing your family. Your life is just... dreadfully peaceful.

Unhappy with what you got, but unable to realize what you want -

It's always been like that for you.

You know you are not good enough. Not pretty enough not smart enough, not thin enough, not enough.

It rapped against you, a dull chorus; you don't think much about this for it is as obvious as the earth go round the sun and your head hurts every time you think too much about this; but whenever you try to put those feeling into words but everything came out wrong, twisted and turned beyond recognition.

Bleary eyes glared at you, your cheeks are wet.

Oh. You've been crying.

(Why…?)

Apparently you are not well.

v.

"Stop. Tormenting me!" She screamed her throat raw, tears blurring stardust eyes, he watched with muted agony, hands reaching out but never touching.

"Rin, please, please, don't do this to yourself," his scream blended in, together they sang a song for the cursed and the perfect, a life that could have been, voices like smoke and deceptions, words broken into screeching sound. Wind whirled around her, the eye of the storm, her dress flickered like candlelight, a never ending dreamscape.

"No, you are doing that to me," Rin laughed hysterically, hands shaking like paper leaves, "let go", but she wasn't sure whom it was meant for either, him or her.

A thousand replies crossed. No - a lie bigger than his life, he could never deny her. Don't do it - his desperate wish. Everything will get better - liar. Please. Liar. I love you.

Liar.

The knife in her hand trembled, the metal blade singed, sizzling where it sat on her wrist, blood curdling like spoilt milk on his skin, on her skin, on their skin. Please.

"Rin, please - I - I don't want you to die -"

"Liar." You are me, I am you, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. You are Me, and the one thing I want most it to disappear, to wisp out of existence, to be blown away, more a fizzle than a bang, oh.

This is how you will collapse.

vi.

You shimmer, not a full fledge burn, but lava bubbles under your skin. Your demons lurk in darkness, ivory eyes staring back eerily, lightning in their look and sharp sharp claws scratching your back raw, effortlessly pulling you back from the nothingness you tried to escape.

You are more fluid like that, eyes like heartbreak and empire falling: your entire life playing out under the white of your eyes, you watch yourself wheezing helplessly – a sentiment so familiar now that you welcome its embrace.

If your life were a movie, the audience would be bored to death. The past is a grainy gray color, the present is existing and hoping for something you couldn't imagine, the future empty, a void.

("What do you want to do?"

What do you want to do? Do you have any plans? Where do you see yourself in the future? What do you like? What do you do in your free time? Do you love movie? What makes a good day? What does "pleasant" feel like? What do you feel?

Who are you?

"I don't know."

Disappointment, you know. They want you to be successful, and indecisiveness is not a desiring trait. It's for the best, but how can one decide if they don't know anything?

It's ridiculous, "I want to be special", because there are seven billions people in the world and still counting. How can you be one of a kind and still slot in a perfect place.

Who are you.

Who are you.

What are you?)

"I don't know what I'm looking for." You said with a startling clarity, a calamity in construction with the face of peace. "I don't know what I'm looking for. I don't know anything. I don't think I've ever lived at all, have I?"

Do you know what I'm talking about?

vii.

"Rin –"

"Get. Out." She didn't even look at him this time, opting to cover her eyes instead, fingers flitting like a blindfold, I'd rather not look at you, I can't bear looking at you right now, go away, GoOD B Y E.

"Rin, I –"

"Get out. You are not real. Get. Out. Of my head."

(Len was you, but he was also his own existence. He was himself in the way he spelled out his goodbye, fingers stiff, crossed together like a promise and his collarbone whispered a plea for second chance. He nodded a little too quickly and walked like he's running away, like how you ran from ghosts of a past you can never exorcise.

But Rin didn't see it. Rin didn't see any of it.)

When she looked up he was gone.

viii.

"How do you feel?"

Such a simple question, yet you found no answers all the same. It seems like you are always out of your depths these days. The only information stored in your mind is useless, the rest empty.

Homework was about you today – something that should have been easy but wasn't. A person with no personality, a shapeless creature, how do you describe yourself? You tried to write down what you felt but ended up empty, and that couldn't have been more accurate.

The devil held your hand and breathed aconite in your ears, you are worthless, I hate you, such a waste; the angel whispered in tiny voice, you are okay, someone out there misses you, we love you, who?

(It's hard to believe when you are out of breath.)

What is in your imagination?

What do you think?

ix.

And I know that I'm a bit not good

A little too dark, a little too empty

{That's the problem with words:

You can say a thousand of them and still can't explain yourself properly.

[When I said I loved the space, I mean the galaxies, the stars, the midnight sky above.

Not this emptiness that is swallowing me whole.

(But hey, for once no one can understand you. For once you are finally one of a kind now.

Are you

happy?)

Are you okay?]

How does it feel?}

Questions are asked but rarely answered. You don't think you have ever felt anything in your life – compared to other people, at the very least.

Intoxicated with madness, in love with my sadness.

(All I ever wanted was to be normal.)

You screamed and scratched yourself raw, flayed open your nerves just to see the blood spurting out, to see how hurt can be, can it match what is in your head? Does it hurt as much on the inside as it does on the outside, and still. Still. Everything in your head is static, black white nothing.

This is vivisection. They cut you open, fray it out for the world to see

and inside, there is

nothing.

x.

She stared at the mirror with hollowed eyes, expecting – what was she waiting for now?

Len didn't show up.

Rin didn't know if she was relieved or disappointed.

xi.

I'm not sure if I'm depressed. I mean, I'm not sad, but I'm not exactly happy either. I can laugh and joke and smile during the day, but sometimes when I'm alone at night I forget how to breathe and forget how to feel.

xii.

There are days like today, when all you want is to curl up in your bed and pull the blanket over your head, shutting out the world. Days when you walk away from a fight, numb, head filled with poisonous thoughts and scroll down the internet, spending hours just to look for the right quotes. Gentle, soothing words from a stranger made you want to cry; and you don't know what's worse: to shed tears for little, mundane details and trivia or to not know why you are crying.

There are days when you don't want to drag yourself out of bed. It's a new beginning, and already you are tired and drained, like the world had sapped away your energy. Days when everything is exhausting and everyone is buzzing, and you just want to escape, run away and never look back again; days when you want to drag a razor across your skin just to see if it hurts on the outside as much as it does in your head.

And they aren't just "days". They drag out and weary you out until you realize, this is your life now. Days sitting in the classroom, wondering why you haven't ended your misery yet and nights sitting in the bathtub crying yourself to sleep, the water sound louder than your sobs to prevent anyone from hearing.

And yet, and yet. All you ever want is somebody pulling you closer and say

"It's not your fault."

All you ever want is for somebody, anybody to stop blaming you, and what are you dreaming. Of course it's your fault you are like this, so stop. Just stop.

Stop.

Stop it. It's my fault.

I'm sorry.

xiii.

I don't want to get up. I just want to sleep.

xiv.

They said I was lonely.

xv.

Rinto was the only one visiting her these days. Doesn't matter. She inhaled lead and exhaled white fluffy cloud.

"I thought you hated me."

She pressed a finger on cracked lips. "Don't."

"Don't what?" He grinned, all teeth and mirth and none of Len. "Don't haunt you? Don't talk to you? Don't ever torment –" here he raised his voice. Licked his lips. "–you again? Oh darling, I already did."

There is a moment, just for a fraction of a second, where everything falls silent; she wishes she could take it back, but then —

"Or do you want him back now?" His fingers curled around long sleeves, teasing them, brushing against bruised skin. "What do you want me to say?"

She was silent, silent, silent, silver words finally quiet and it hurt all the same. Here's to the pride before the fall.

"Leave it. Leave him out of this."

Stupid, beautiful Len, trying times and times again to save her. He didn't – never – deserve any of this.

"What are you talking about? I'm him." His voice drawled out. Rough palm slid up her neck, curving like water, his fingertips brushing her pulse.

She stood unmoving.

"You aren't Len."

"Wrong." He wasn't smiling now, but his lips curled up into something feral all the same.

His thumb skimmed her cheek and he titled her face, leaning in – this is how it will end, oh. But he only brushed his lips against her temple, chaste and innocent, a ghost, lingering just a heartbeat too long.

"I'm Len. I'm just not your Len."

xv.

Here's the pride before the fall

Oh your eyes they show it all.

xvi.

The art of lying is simple: Don't tell a lie too big, dose in a few truth, and never lie to yourself.

xvii.

You couldn't understand your own conditions. Sometimes you just wanted to stay buried in your bed and never woke up again. Sometimes you hesitated to speak up, scared that you were wrong (always) and everyone would be laughing at you. Often you laughed at jokes a little too loud and smiled happily only to stay in bed at nights and wonder where those feeling had gone. You couldn't take the pain away if there was no pain in the first place. You couldn't fix what was wrong if you didn't know the problem.

Everything was fine, but I wished I was dead.

xix.

You said you felt nothing

so why does that nothingness

break your heart?

xx.

Atelophobia. The fear of being imperfect, of not being good enough.

Self-destruction. The destruction or ruination of oneself or one's life.

Contrite. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.

Sorry.

xxi.

In order to understand, I destroyed myself.

xxii.

She mounted the wood high,

burnt herself,

and for a second,

shone.

xxiii.

Once upon a time, there was a girl, with butterfly wings around tied around her wrist and her face a blank canvas; until she wasn't.

xxiv.

You will feel him in your bones, feel him slowly forget you. He is irreplaceable, you realize for the first time; scrubbing off the red on your lips until the water is crimson with something not lipstick. He is irreplaceable, and you let him go.

Oh.

This is how a heart beats.

Breaks.

xxv.

I memorized every inch of your face but forgot how the corners of your lips would curl up. I can't remember your laughter. I can't imagine your voice without mine.

Come back. Even as a shadow. Even as a dream.

xxvi.

I'd like to be my old self again, but I'm still trying to find it.

xxvii.

His eyes drew her in, blue blue blue, smoke and mirror, lips like sin and words like venom, "What do you want me to be?"

"Leave –"

"No, no, you see, you want me here, otherwise I wouldn't –"

"I said leave –"

"See, you can't even lie. Not to yourself, never to yourself, and that is why I'm here. To remind you of the truth, of yourself."

He wasn't even touching her, but she wished he did.

"You are that girl in the background that no-one cares about. I believe this is called the wallpaper, huh?"

"I –"

"The one that everyone looks and thinks, oh, fat bitch,"

Breathless.

"The dumb, dumb one that is ignored, can't even finish a sentence without second guessing yourself –"

And it does not matter when she reaches up and tries to claw at him—at his eyes, his cheeks, his neck—because he catches them deftly in his hands and he tightens his grip until he knows that, when he leans down, she won't sink her teeth into his skin.

"Or what do you want me to say? I miss you. I want you. I care about you. You are beautiful –"

"Stop mocking –"

"I don't want to go. Please don't do this, Rin. I love –"

"Stop!"

Silence fell like a shroud, she choked, clawing desperately at nonexistent noose.

"I love you."

xxviii.

I miss you. I want you. I care about you. I love –

Liar.

xxix.

Once upon a time, there was a girl with a wreath in her hair and a macabre mourning braid woven with blond hair on her wrist; who lost a soft-eyed boy to herself.

xxx.

So how are you?

Ugly. Worthless.

Who are you?

No-one.

And what are you?

Nothing.

zero.

Once upon a time, there was a lost girl. Her forest wasn't Wonderland but crimson with blood and her eyes haunted and glassy like smoke filled glass; a girl too good at the art of playing graveyard games, forever dancing on rose thorns, forever mourning herself.