The Girl in the Mirror

Stupidity is a contagious disease and you seem to have been inflicted. Once again you stand still, showcasing an image – a desperate image ready to endure the ironically unexpected outcomes of desperate expectations. You suffered several days of not being able to get up because of the emotional fevers and chills that wouldn’t go away, nor would be abated by sardonic medications, which, for the record, are unprescribed.

For the nth time, you submitted yourself to the trap of deception. You satisfied someone else’s exigency while you constantly hurt yourself. You were never known as a masochist yet you seem to derive pleasure from the pains he invariably throws to you.

Perhaps it is the blasphemous love that draws you close to him. Perhaps it is the blasphemous love that leaves you choiceless despite the million choices laid unseen before you. If that’s the case, then screw love.

But that, for sure, is one thing that you wouldn’t do. For you are emotionally weak. And you seem to have mastered the art of martyrdom and puerility, and the indissoluble combination of the two.

You’ve spread your diamonds before him, yet he found no brilliancy in them. You’ve shone your brightest light towards his perfectly crafted face, yet his eyes didn’t show the slightest flicker. His cold shoulder is something you are aware of, yet you embraced the idea of giving him some more. You embraced that absurd idea, undeterred by the fact that your indulgence will never be returned.

Where’s the indisputable self-respect you once boasted? Where’s the solid dignity you once displayed? Where’s the undeniable wit you once emblazoned? Where’s the rocklike pride you once showed off?

Your self-respect has withered. Your dignity has become stale. Your wit has dried up. Your pride has deteriorated. You are nothing but a discomposured statue of abashment.

Standing firm is one thing you’re good at. And I wouldn’t dare let you tumble down. I wouldn’t dare make you fall once more. Hate is too severe a word, and I wouldn’t dare hate you. For after all of these, everything narrows down to one final conclusion – I am you, and you are me.

And so this is for me.