She had this feeling of complete and utter helplessness, that her life and world just flew too fast out of control. Nothing felt right and she didn't know what it would take to fix it or how long. So hard to sleep, to think straight, to pull herself together and walk through her day. A tear trailed down her cheek as she stared gloomily at the reflection in the mirror before her. She didn't know who she was, just felt lost. She screamed in rage and slammed her tightened fist into the reflection, effectively shattering it. Pieces collided with her knuckles and rained in fragments to the floor as she fell to her knees sobbing. She didn't know what she was doing anymore. Each movement felt like she was in a fog, like someone else was taking her steps. She was as broken as the mirror.


      I apparently have some sort of fascination with mirrors and reflections and identity. Well, or at least I tend to write about it a lot. who knows. Just something to write I suppose...