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Mystery Behind the Mirror



Joined: 1/23/2013
Posts: 3
Lucy Marie
The thin, skeletal, border wraps all around it like bony fingers, hiding the rough edges from when it was made. The surface is smooth and clear in some spots, yet a little rough, scratched, and blotchy from the life it has endured for so long. Heavy with the weight of the years, barely holding on to the wall with some old screws and bolts probably rusted from the time it has spent hanging on. It sees everything that goes on in the dingy, germ ridden bathroom during school hours and after. It sees everyone who dares come in, everyone and a short glimpse of their life and who they really are.
There’s a constant dull and ill spirited reflection of the grimy, soap scummed bathroom sinks that are stained a gritty blue color. The red walls of the stalls, coarse and asperous, have the texture of goose bumps creepily crawling over skin, scratched and scarred over time due to abuse from people writing and scratching their names and not so secret notes. The floors are made of discolored tiles with thin black lines and filled with grungy footprints, all leading to different lives.
These are lives that pass through every day, people from all walks of life. Some are small, tiny, and fragile girls who come in and look at themselves, but only see a distorted image. An image that makes them feel undesirable, ugly, and fat. Some of these beautiful girls have starved not only their small weak stomachs, but have also starved their once bright and cheery spirits.
They come in every day during lunch, beautiful young girls with faces glowing bright with potential. Their hands capable of pure and caring deeds; but with eyes that hunger for true innocence and the compassion of other people. Their minds are telling them the opposite of what they truly are and can be; minds that say: “your fat! You’re ugly! No one wants you! Make yourself look prettier! Go ahead! Slab on tons of makeup, dye your hair, and puke your guts out! Make yourself look skinny and desirable according to worldly views! That’s what everyone wants!”
The bathroom is empty again. Soon another type of person will come in, a girl dressed in simple clothes but with a not so simple life. A girl dressed with faded jeans, scuffed up and worn out old boots, and a hoodie one size too big. She sits in the corner of the bathroom curled up in the security of her warm, baggy hoodie and her scuffed boots that bring back memories of an innocent and pure childhood that she wishes she could return to.
Every day she comes in the bathroom with cold, salty, and lonely tears and sits in front of me and talks to her reflection; she asks questions that she wants answered. Questions that ask: “why do people hate me? Why do people ignore me like I don’t exist? Why does no one love me? Why can’t I get the courage to kill myself?” She pulls out a small, shiny, and silver blade; every question she can’t answer she makes a long, deep, red, burning mark on her arm, hoping the stinging pain will make her forget the fear and empty pain that exists in her life, even if it is just for a few minutes. She watches as her cold salty tears fall and mix with the warm, coppery taste of bright red blood; it slowly streams down her small pale arm and falls to the cold, dirty floor.
These are the kind of people that I see every day, these lives and many more; girls that cry with emptiness and pain on the inside, but wear pseudonymic masks of happiness and joy. I see so many lives with difficult family relationships, broken families, and so many problems in the world.
I see everything that goes on in the dingy, germ ridden bathroom during school hours and after. I see everyone who dares come in, everyone and a short glimpse of their life and who they really are. I see pain, hunger, love, friendships, relationships, heartbreaks, rumors, bullying, and so much more. I can’t judge who these girls are or what they look like. I am a mirror, I reflect not only the image they show me, but the image of who they are and want to be and what is in their heart. That is who I am; truthful and honest. I’m just a plain old mirror in a plain old high school bathroom that reflects everything and everyone that dares to come in and face me.


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