#odd reflections

[psychocipher]

Me: "what'd you ever see in your ex?"

Also me: "she gave me attention"

Me again: "oh lol that's true, carry on"

[samisinsane93]

Still Stuck in 2014

The New Year is here folks! And the same old problems are there from last year. Problems that should have been dealt with in the past year.

I'm still forgetting a lot of things that happened as soon as five minutes ago.

I'm still feeling uncomfortable around people - no matter how close they are to me.

I'm still unable to tell the difference between reality and what's in my head. Which makes every sound and movement terrifying for me, especially at night.

I'm still in a lot of pain, but I won't grow up and make my own doctors' appointments - so why complain? I really don't anymore.

BUT...

I still have friends and family around. I still have a roof over my head and clothes on my back. I still have my intelligence (for now) and I have an imagination that gets the weirdest ideas on paper. I still have a book that's been published.

And I am still alive, young, and loved. What more could I ask for?

Maybe this year won't turn out so bad after all? I just hope that I can remember to write "2015" on my papers instead of "2014".

[sexbob-mom-blog]

im shopping for a door and this place looks like it should be from the beginning of a supernatural episode

[the-one-that-watches]

Odd Reflections

Written by K

  I can’t exactly recall when I first began to feel this way.

The dread.

The absolute horror of looking at my reflection.

I used to absolutely adore staring at the nifty little mirror perched atop my dresser. I would spend hours looking at myself, admiring my fair auburn curls neatly resting upon my shoulders… my fair white skin and piercing green eyes... I was beautiful.

But, one day as I was admiring the upward curl of my lashes… I couldn’t help but notice a freckle no less than 3 centimeters away from my left eye. In utter shock at this little imperfection, I turned away and headed to work.

All throughout the day, my attempts at concentrating on my portion of the presentation were fruitless. The only thing I thought of was that freckle.

That little tiny dot upon my face.

I wasn’t the perfect being I had always thought I was.

My co-workers chatting away during our lunch break would have surely noticed my little defect. I began to breathe heavily. I turned away.

“Claire, why are you so quiet today? Are you feeling alright?”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t respond.

No. No one could ever see the small discoloration on my face.

So I got up and, without another word, I returned home.

That night, I disconnected my phone, locked my door, closed all windows… and covered my mirror.

I separated myself from civilization so that no one would be able to see my little… friend.

After being trapped… I lost track of time. I desperately needed human contact, but who would be able to see me in this state? The last time I bathed was months ago, I was in the same clothes I wore the day I walked out of work… The only human voice I’ve heard in months was my sister’s muffled voice through the door, crying and pleading for me to open the door. I couldn’t face her. Not then.

So I uncovered the mirror.

I took a deep breath.

And looked at myself.

My heart stopped when I saw what I had become in the amount of time I spent locked up. The hair on my head was no longer long, curly and bouncy, but a tangled, greasy jungle. Then I saw that… little problem on my face.

In a fit of rage, I smashed the mirror. I felt a wave of relief wash over me as the shards of glass fell around me. Then I passed out.

-

“How long has she been sitting there? Her cuts won’t stop bleeding.”

“I don’t know… why did she do this to herself? She seemed perfectly fine.”

“We better take her away.”

“Oh. Wait. She has a little spot on her face… I think it's some makeup…”

Their voices echoed softly around the room as a curious girl with a tiny smile observed the bright lights… The “freckle” was gone.