Mirror Says

Whenever I stand in front of the mirror, I see a girl staring back at me. Those pain-filled, vulnerable eyes begging me for mercy. Those tightly closed lips screaming their innocence and that decent face that couldn't be simply read by others. She asks me for help and I just stand their froze unable to understand. She narrates her innocence and I neglect. She wants me to understand her but I refuse. She tells me who she really is but my eyes are blind and my ears are deaf. Not that i don't want to understand but I am bound. Bound by the judgments of the world. I am lost. Lost in my own identity. I am changed. Changed by this society.

The girl in the mirror is me but she is different. She has the same face like i do but she is pure. Untouched by the myths of the society. I am fake. I am changed. I am a slut. She refuses this word they use for me, people, but they refer me like that. I am calm not because I am not hurt but because now I am used to this word. Now i don't care. They call me a slut but they do not see my scars. They do not notice the pain in my eyes. They mock at my silence. I just listen them complaining about me. People don't want to understand me. People don't want to explore me. People don't want to accept me. They want to change me. They have succeeded eventually. Now i am changed. Now i satisfy their complaints. Now I am not myself.

Those people, they admire my face. They lust for my body. They see the outer me. They used to complain about my behavior. They disgusted my habits. They were jealous of me because I wasn't like them. I was not judgmental. I was satisfied with what I had. I didn't want more from life. I had a crystal heart which they broke. They broke my confidence and my trust. They hated me just because I loved them. They apprehended my free spirit and stabbed my soul. Now I am just like them, full of hatred, full of complaints. Now I am dead.

The girl in the mirror is worried. She is worried about me. She wants me to retreat. She wants to remind me how I was in the past. She wants me to restore. She wants me to forget the sorrows and become light-hearted. She wants me to become like I was before. She is very powerful but yet she is helpless. She is stronger than me. She is better than me.  But she is not real. She is virtual. She cannot help me unless I want to be helped. She is the only one I have. She doesn't smile when I cry in front of her, she cries along with me. She knows my pain. She is happy when I am happy. She doesn't judge me. She doesn't want to change me. She doesn't call me a slut. Even if I try I cannot be like her. I am not as selfless as her. She is my everything. She is my reflection.