The Girl In The Mirror

I leant forward and asked the girl in the mirror, “Are you OK?” and nudged my eyebrows to get a response. Her face had a smile but I could clearly see that she screamed immediately, on the top of her voice, her mouth open as wide as it could. 

 

So, she isn’t ok. But I am tired. Should I go to sleep again as I have been doing because my body needs to process all the reception of death—from my memory and what is currently being recorded every other day or month rather?

I do not know how to accept death but I am learning. My body, fortunately, knows how to process the mix of emotions that such an event brings with it. It is funny how, in such times, social media becomes a mirror which shows reality at focal point. It doesn’t take you away from the reality but makes you face it. 

She poses questions because she is troubled. She appeared in my dreams last night. She was in a trouble there, surrounded with naked demons, hungry with lust and covering her up in a vicious circle. That is why I woke up angry, scared and disturbed in the morning.

At times, she blows kisses at me because she absolutely adores who I am but when I need answers or a solution, she is mum. She doesn’t have answers. She, however, reminds me when I need to find the answers and indirectly also where can I probably find them. She helps me and that is how I try to help her—the girl in the mirror. 

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