by Becky


I always told myself that looking deep into my problems initially created even more of them; however it was close to impossible to stop realizing that my world was surrounded by endless amounts of tribulations. It at times only took the chill of cold air to wisp the back of my pale colored neck for the day to be deprived, deprived of what I wasn't sure I could be privileged with, yet somehow I knew I wasn't close to meeting privilege face to face. At other times it took just a simple glance in the admired mirror hanging up in the girls' lavatory. I stood before the old stained reflector avoiding the image that stared back at me and asked the object itself how it lives. I closed my eyes so I wouldn't have to look eye to eye at the deep colored brunette, and imagined what it would be like to stare without a comment. I believe that the way someone looks at him or herself portrays almost everything about them. When you look into a mirror, you look at yourself, you're not looking at your blue eyed boyfriend who you intend to impress, or the wrinkled _expression of your father's face, who knows nothing about you behind your closed door, you look at who you are, because deep inside you know that who you are is what you see yourself to be. In an odd manner I had an urge to be this mirror. I desired to obtain the feelings of others, maybe so I wouldn't concentrate so much on my own.

So I shut my eyes so no light could pass through my lids and began a steady breath. Concentrating on the stability of my inhalation helped me maintain my thoughts. I was no longer the mirrors acquaintance, no longer my judge, I was theirs, and I looked from the inside out. I reminded myself not to look at the perfection of ones makeup, or the darkening roots emerging from a blonde's scalp but rather the stain of imperfection that they beat themselves about.

A combination between a vague yellow light and a hushed silence hit two of my five senses. The whiny door closed behind itself as my first victim accustomed herself to me. Her blue eyes drowned in makeup as she stared deep within them. Her eyebrows had risen to express an aura of excitement. She examined her gold charm bracelet with a craving and unhooked the lock so it was easier for her to hold. Finding the tiny part of her bracelet that was to be used as a locket, she frantically opened it. She was almost as concentrated as I was when she took her French manicured finger tip and scooped just enough of the white powder to see an image of a face begin to appear. Her _expression changed, as she looked up into her eyes. Her parched lips met as she expressed her true feelings to her one true friend, herself. She only felt sorrow as she placed her fingertip to her nostril and inhaled. She did not have a chance to glance at her deprived image once again before a knock at the door startled her. She quickly closed the locket, looked up at herself and beneath her own breathe told herself a fib, "smile, look happy," she whispered as she unlocked the chilled brass knob to find my next pretender.

Her golden hair covered the _expression of her eyes as she stared at her image. I could tell she was not pleased by the way she kept pulling down her black knitted sweater. She gradually turned to her side so I could see the portrait of her boney tanned skinned face. Her bitten nails stood out as her hand touched her visible ribs through her sweater. She inhaled and sucked in her stomach until she was pleased with the image that looked back at her. As she removed her hand she gasped for air and turned herself so her face was eye to eye with mine. Pushing the silver handle towards herself for water to emerge, she waited for it to be a warm temperature. When she was satisfied she pumped the pink soap out of its dirty container and rubbed her hands thoroughly together. Her eyes were glued to her reflection as she rinsed the dirt off her hands. She hadn't stopped staring into herself as she ripped a part of the rough brown paper towel to wipe the excess water off. As her skinny arm threw the paper into the overflowing trash can, her eyes still met mine. Her back straightened out as she walked over to the toilet and put both her twig like knees on the chilled tile floor. Her eyes were no longer concentrated on the image she hated. Pulling her hair back into a messy bun, she took two of her fingers and stuck them deep down into her throat until she was deprived of her lunch. She too opened the chilled brass door knob and put on a show as she blended into the throng of her rivals.

Her heels created a steady-like pattern as she made her way to the mirror. Her eyes sagged deep down her face as she stared into her ghostly vision. Her skinny body was adorned with her worn out ensemble, a black knee length skirt, a white blouse, and a matching black blazer. It almost seemed as if the color of her attire described what she was feeling. The wrinkles that she seemed to pay attention to indicated she was about thirty. She put her grade book on the edge of the white stained sink and made sure it was steady enough so it wouldn't fall. She turned the cold silver handle towards herself and waited till warm water ran down the drain. She looked as if she became mesmerized as she stared into me, while she let all the ink from correcting papers fade from her chapped hands. She seemed to have forgotten that the water was running and her facial _expression became distressed as the water soaked her white sleeves and they became transparent. Although she was quick, she was not quick enough to hide the red-mark cuts that seeped through her wet sleeve that now hugged her secret. In a business-like manner she pulled down the cuff of her blazer to hide her pain, and dismissed the matter as quickly as she dismissed a class. I heard the steady-like pattern of her heels once again as she made her way towards the exit.

The pattern discontinued and the room remained silent for a while. I realized the walls of this bathroom knew more about some people then they knew about themselves

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The voices of two girls spread quickly through the bathroom as the door shut tightly behind them. Their conversation seemed to have no important context at all. I just listened

"What are you doing after school today?" the shorter one asked.

"Dan asked me to hang out for a bit so I'm gunna be with him till my mother drags me home for dinner. Then I will probably just drown in all the homework I have to finish by the end of this week, not to mention shower and straighten my hair," the prettier one blurted.

"Oh I wish I could have someone like Dan, he's so caring and he loves you so much, he must be there for you all the time," she murmured trying not to sound too jealous.

"Whatever, he's alright I guess."

The shorter girl stared into me as she waited for her friend to come out of the stall. She too turned so that I could see a clear image of her profile. As she sucked in her stomach, she exhaled and let the air blow out of her skinny lips. She made no intense actions like those of the other girls, yet the _expression on her face made it obvious she was just as miserable as they all had been. It was hard to explain what her face was like, but she looked at every part of her body in sulk, as if she was grieving for it. Her friend unlocked the stall while she stared at her with nothing but greed. She took one last glance at herself in the mirror and gave up with a forged smile.

            Shivers ran up my calves as the door swung open with silence. I could barely tell someone had stepped into the confessional before her face emerged before me. Her tears formed the shape of her rotund pale face as they quickly shattered down her neck line. I couldn't make much of her appearance because of the water that smeared her black makeup which was now headed almost half way down her check bone. She let out a loud wale and immediately after covered her mouth as if she would be penalized for being noisy. Her eyes shot out at me as her face revealed a red tint. I could tell by the way she raised her eyebrows she was becoming more enraged than displeased. Her actions started to scare me as she took her fist and started punching it into her palm. She wouldn't stop. I attempted to scream, reach out to her, but my voice did not contact her ears nor did my hand reach her deprived body. Her fist came in contact with the wall beside me; I jolted as the force of her knuckles to the tiled wall impacted me. When her oversized sapphire ring met her reflection, she and I shattered into thousands of pieces together, collectively but detached at the same time. Our image crushed in front of us. I looked to my left and found my reflection staring back at me. The image distraught me as I stared at the girl who became deprived of herself. I turned the other way and discovered a part of the broken mirror, I no longer saw the incensed girls' mirror image, I was alone again. Instead I gazed at a reflection of light that hit the mirror in a place where my vision became distorted. I curiously looked to my side and saw the sunlight that shined through the locked window.

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