The smiley face I drew on my mirror a few days ago with my mascara is mocking me. Every time I look at it, it screams at me. At first when you se it, it's kind of cute. But then, it turns ugly and menacing. It asks you why you can't be happy like it is. It tells you that you have no reason to be melancholy, but it's not comforting when it says it will all be okay. It's sarcastic, like it knows that it won't be okay.
And then in the mirror, when you look underneath the black, smeared smile, you see me. I sit on my bed across from the mirror. I am curled up with my bruised knees at my chest because I'm too clumsy to walk. My hair is faded out, in a knotted, curly mess pulled up on the left side. There are barely any traces of eyeliner left around my stupid stone eyes, so it looks all gray, like I haven't eaten in days, which is close to true. I look like a mess.
And when I see myself and the black smiling b**** on my mirror, I think nothing but bad things about myself and what I put the only one I love through.
