In That Brain of Yours

She was walking over to the washroom when she saw her looking at her. She looked back into her eyes. Aretha was her name. A messed up girl. She remembered how perfect Aretha once was. A perfect student and the perfect leader. She was the prettiest as well. Her perfect golden hair till her waist used to have luscious and bouncy curls. Her hazel dove eyes were always calm and confident. When Aretha would speak, people would believe because she couldn't be wrong with that charming smile and charismatic persona. But this was all a year ago. 

She looked at Aretha staring at her. She had shaved all her hair off near her ears and the rest of it was cut haphazardly as though cut off in anger. She could still see some of Aretha's curls just as luscious as before. But they had, somehow, lost their charm. She looked at her eyes. Wild as ever. They didn't have any calm in them but instead had been replaced with a million different doubts and a huge amount of instability. 

Everyone thought Aretha was the one with a perfectly balanced life. "That chick has her shit together" they'd say. Looking at her disheveled clothes and lost face, she knew better. What was Aretha thinking? What is in that funny brain of yours, Aretha? Have you always been this lost? Was it all fake? What is it like in that brain of yours, Aretha? Did you used to be perfect but fall weak with the customary persecution of this wretched life? Was it all too much Aretha? What are you thinking? What will you do with that gun in your hand? Who will you kill? What is in that brain of yours?

She looked into the mirror at herself, Aretha, and pointed the gun at her head. She looked at her own wild eyes and her own disheveled clothes. Flashing her charismatic smile for the last time she screamed, "I'm dead already" and shot herself.