Mirror, Mirror

      Here she is once again, the same spot she finds herself in every night, facing her own judge, jury, and eventual executioner. Her eyes move slowly upwards as she quietly speaks the words, “Mirror, Mirror on the wall, who is the most perfect of them all”.

     The girl stands silently awaiting her answer, starved, broken, her arms dripping the only tears she is allowed to cry. Everyday she waits, praying the mirror will tell her that she has finally done it, she is finally perfect, and the punishment can finally stop. It’s a fleeting hope because the mirror shows her the same thing it does every night, more pain, more imperfections, and more reasons why she is weak. Soon flashes of her loved ones begin to haunt her reflection to remind her of everything that she isn’t. She isn’t pretty enough, a good enough daughter, good enough student, a good enough wife, mother, friend, and the list keeps going. She is faced with all the people she has let down in the past, that she continues to let down everyday, and with each face another crack appears. She stops and asks herself, “How many cracks before I shatter”?

     For years she has tried to find ways to silence her pain, to find ways to be the ‘normal’ the world wants, and every night she finds herself alone, face to face with the mirror...waiting for a verdict that will never come. She tells herself to “soldier up”, put on the smile, no one wants or needs to deal with her damage. There will be no crying, no letting that scream inside her find a voice, she is not allowed to fall apart...no one would understand. This is her pain to control, she knows how to do it, the mirror had shown her so many years before. 

     Her heart rate begins to rise, she fights for breath, as she falls to her knees her hands instinctively grab the razor sitting beside her. She has to make it stop, if she doesn’t get it out she may never breathe again, and as her flesh begins to weep she tries to find her breath. The bricks on her chest are still there...it isn’t working, why isn’t it working? She begins to panic turning her weeping wrist into a river of crimson. Still she can’t breathe, her heart feels like it could explode, the quiet numbness she had expected hasn’t come...she feels everything. The mirror has betrayed her, as she glances up in anger she sees her reflection, her paper white face as her life spills on the floor. 

       The mirror had always told her there was a price to pay, but in young naivety she hadn’t stopped long enough to care. She had only ever wanted to be perfect, to make the pain go away, and to be enough for all of them. She had believed all this time that as the numbers on the scale went down, as those crimson teardrops appeared on her pale flesh, as she swallowed another handful of pills that she was being purified, her pain was disappearing, and she would one day be perfect. Only now could she see the truth right in front of her, she had believed with everything that mirror was giving her the perfection she was desperately seeking, but it had all been a lie. With every pound that ticked down on the scale, every fresh gash in her pale flesh, every pill she dutifully swallowed chiseled more of her away. As her life continued to spill from her wrists, she could feel herself fading, becoming a shell that once held a soul.

     Now she lays in front of the mirror, knowing her death is near, unsure if she could even find the words to call for help. It is then she realizes that there is no help, this battle is and always has been between her and the reflection the mirror has shown her for years.How could anyone save what they can’t see, they can’t see the monster inside that has been slowly ripping away her life for years. She closes her eyes in silent surrender surprised at what appears. It is only for a second, but she sees herself smiling, truly laughing, she is a partner to someone who loves her, a mother, a cherished friend, and a worthy daughter. There is still pain, but for the first time she can see happiness and acceptance. 

     As she forces her eyes back open she looks to the mirror, that broken body in the reflection staring back at her, her hands find a nearby book, and with more strength than she thought she could find she throws that book into the mirror. As she watches the pieces of glass shatter to the floor and the broken, dying body disappear she begins to fight. This would not be her last night on this earth, she would not surrender to the traitorous mirror, she would find the will to survive. She new the bad moments would still come, she will stumble again, hell, maybe even fall, she would get new scars, but she would survive.

      “What will it take for you to break the mirror”?