Through the mirror

I'm a survivor. I'm lucky I'm here today because if things had gone to plan, I would've been dead years ago - but I'm not. Sometimes I wish I had done it, ended it all, but I ignore that feeling. That's all it is, a feeling. A feeling which will go away in some time, right? The scars have started to fade, blend in, but never leave. It will always be a part of me.

I walk through the corridors, my head in the clouds, my heart at rock bottom. That's when I notice her, in a bubble similar to mine. She's surrounded by people yet she stands out to me, because she's reminds me of myself. Long-sleeves, hiding herself as best she can, bright smile, loud laugh. It's so obvious that it's fake, why can no one see that it's fake? Her footsteps seem hollow, as the seconds tick by so does the time-bomb attached to her. Counting down the days until she snaps.

Our eyes meet, a fleeting moment, an understanding between us. Today I know my mission, no matter what, I have to pull her back. Pull her back from her safe place, away from reality. It's dangerous, addicting, you'll want more and more of it, less and less of the world. It pull you in and your strength alone isn't enough to get you out. Maybe I'm still far away from escape but I will make sure she never has to ever again. When I look at the mirror, I pull away, cover my eyes, the masterpiece on my skin overwhelms me, but when I look through the mirror I see her. When I look through the mirror I see hope.