The mirror only reflects what is real, not what we want to see..
I stood in front of the mirror, looking at my reflection. I wore a tank top that was a size too small, and skinny jeans that practically cut off my breathing. My face was pale, my green eyes dull, and my blond hair unkempt. Like every morning, I was dissatisfied with what I saw. The girl looking at me wasn't something beautiful. She was something I hated.
I pulled the bag of makeup out from under the bathroom sink, picking out which things I felt I would need. Eyeliner, lipstick, mascara, eye shadow, foundation, and blush. All the things that would bring me a little closer to the perfection I knew was out of my reach.
The foundation was the first thing I picked up, applying it to my face. After that, a put a light dusting of blush along my cheekbones. I applied the lipstick last, a soft, almost natural pink colour. Now my face wasn't the pale that I hated.
Next I was to fix my dull green eyes. I picked up the eye shadow, looking at the three colours. I applied the purple to my lid, the darker green just above that, and the light green up until my eyebrows. I traced a light ring of brown around my eyes with the eyeliner, and then used the brown mascara on my eyelashes.
To finish up with the makeup, I picked the foundation up again. I applied just a little to my left wrist, covering the scars I had left there. My life story, hidden like my face.
I ran a brush through my hair, watching as it slowly began to fall into place. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, setting the brush down on the counter.
My reflection now revealed a completely different person. She had rosy cheeks, sparkling eyes, and beautiful hair. This girl seemed so much closer to perfection than the previous girl ever had.
I grabbed my bag and headed out of the house, not stopping to have anything for breakfast. I waited by the curb until my boyfriend, Gilbert, drove up. We remained silent on our way to the school, neither of us having much to say to the other.
He parked and we got out. Our hands immediately linked, and we walked onto campus smiling and talking. Once we were standing with our friends, his hands began to wander a little. This was normal, and I never stopped it. I hated the way he touched me, but would never speak out against him.
Classes began, and they passed with a blur. I barely paid attention, preferring to write the poetry that reflected my feelings. The feelings that I was never allowed to show.
Lunch came, and I sat amongst my normal group. They talked and laughed while I silently listened. They never even noticed that I had quit talking months ago, but none of them really cared. It was the same with eating, though. None of them cared that I never seemed to eat.
"Who, Felicyta?" I overheard someone talking behind me. "Nah, you don't want to hang out with her. She's part of the popular crowd. Materialistic and shallow. Even Natalia would be better for you than her."
I sighed, staring down at the table. Lunch wouldn't end soon enough. I identified the speaker as Raivis, and figured he was talking to Toris. I knew the latter had a crush on me, but I was expected to date the popular boy.
The school day finally ended, and Gilbert took me back home. I locked myself in my room, laying silently on my bed. I dozed off after a bit, only waking up when my mum came to get me for supper.
I looked from the food to my parents, not really wanting to eat it, but knowing that I would have to. I slowly took a few bites, feeling disgusted each time I swallowed. I finished my supper, just like my parents wanted, and left the table.
The bathroom was next. I already felt nauseous from the food I had eaten, and I wanted it out of my system. I knelt beside the toilet, automatically throwing up. I had done it so often that I no longer needed to stick my fingers down my throat. I brushed my teeth right after, not wanting that taste in my mouth.
I turned the shower on, waiting for the water to get almost too hot. I stripped and stepped in, loving the feel of the heat against my skin. It was a light pain, soon to be accompanied by an even worse pain.
First, I washed all the makeup off. My face felt off without it, but I didn't mind. I quickly washed the rest of me, and then grabbed my razor. I glanced at my full wrist, turning my attention to my hip, which already had a few cuts.
I dragged the cold razor against my skin a few times, working up my courage. Once I had enough, I dug the blade into my skin. The blood mixed with the water and my tears, swirling down the drain.
It wasn't enough. One time would never be enough. I cut again, and then a third time. The crimson blood looked beautiful as it ran from the open wounds. The pain cleared my mind, making me feel real for the first time all day.
When the three cuts had stopped bleeding, I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. I dried off and changed into my pyjamas. After I was finished, I went back to my bed to attempt sleep.
A usual day in my life.