The Mirror

The clock reads three am as I find myself looking into my bathroom mirror. My eyeshadow is still there in its bright green color. My foundation is still on my face, hiding my dark circles and blemishes. My lips are still stained red and black. My nails are still long and of a glittery blue color. I am still wearing my favorite green cocktail dress that hugs me in the right places. I am still the same person I was when I left a few hours ago. I am still the same as I was when I woke up this morning at five am. I am still the same person I was when I agreed to go out. I am still the same person who burned her toast in the morning, yet still ate it with a shrug. 

But I am not the same person. Looking in the mirror despite everything still being there. There are things that are gone. Things that people don’t usually notice. Things that are invisible except for the person that owns them. That feels them.

This morning my eyes were bright and filled with excitement. This morning I was filled with motivation to complete everything that needed to get done. This morning I woke up feeling happy about being able to wake up. I was happy for starting a new day. This morning I pushed aside all the things that went wrong the previous day. This morning I was able to laugh at all the things that were wrong, unexpected, and unperfect. 

But the eyes in the mirror now lack all these. The eyes looking at me now, are red and filled with tears. The smile is forced and nonexistent. The lips are twitching forcing a sob back. The long nails stained with red from digging into my palms leaving small puncture marks. And everything that I pushed back and tried to forget is coming back at full force. The happiest moments of today are being erased, pushed to the back of my mind to make room for the darkest thoughts to take the spotlight. For the darkest thoughts to consume me, to devour me.  

 Turning on the tap, I let the water run going to waste. The minutes pass and the water continues to run. It continues to be wasted. Wasted by me. Wasted by my inability to torn my gaze away from my tear-stained face. Wasted by my stupidness that wants more than it deserves. Wasted by my obsession to present a perfect persona. A fake persona. Closing my eyes, I let a sob escapes my lips. A sob that starts out noiseless and develops into screams. Screams of desperation. Screams calling out for help. Calling out for something. Calling out to someone. Calling out to no one. For no one could help. No one can help me. No one can help. I am alone. All alone. 

I’m alone fighting these feelings of concern, confusion, and anger, and loneliness. Concern for all the decisions I made tonight. Deciding to go out and celebrate with friends was a good call, but was it? I ended up laughing and having a good time, but did I? I talked with friends, but did I really? The truth is that I didn’t. I talked and laughed but it was all a lie. It was all a pretense. It was all an act. An act for I no longer know how to do those things without ruining the mood. It has been years since I last had a truthful word leave my mouth. It was been years since I have been certain that I was enjoying what I was doing. I often question the emotions and motif behind everything I do. Why have I chosen toast over eggs? Why eggs? Why this or that. And as those questions fill up my mind, I feel anger. Anger for not being capable to be happy with my choices. Anger for second-guessing everything I say and do. Anger for being me.

And even when I laugh and enjoy myself, I feel alone. A lone for every laugh, every word, and smile were all rehearsed. Everything I do and say outside of these white walls is an act. An act to show that I am still the same I was years ago. To show that I am good and kind. To show that I can love and deserve to be loved. To show that I am worthy of being kept around. 

Turning off the tap I strip off the dress and into the cold shower. I scrub my body getting rid of all the sweat and dried-up tears. I scrub hard leaving only pink behind. I scrub hard over and over the same areas leaving behind red and pain. I scrub and scrub removing the mask I force myself to wear to the outside world. I scrub off all the pretense and lies I forced myself into believing for the day. I scrub and scrub leaving only my true self behind. Turning off the shower and wrapping a black towel around my trembling limbs, I stand before the mirror once again. 

My eyes are red just the like rest of my body. My hands are trembling and some of the nail polish has chipped off. My hair is dripping wet and all tangled up. Looking into the red eyes staring back at me I find comfort. Comfort for I am in my true form. I am not forcing a smile or okayness. I am not forcing out a laugh or contentment. I am not forcing anything. I am me. I am myself. My messy and uncontrollable self. 

Looking into the mirror I finally see myself. The self-filled with insecurities and internal struggles. The self-filled with sadness, anger, and confusion. All is exposed and I am glad. The image in the mirror is me at my worst but it is me. It is me