it’s 3 in the morning and your mind is a train station. unwelcome thoughts and sour aftertastes climb stairs and board trains that travel to darker parts of you.. parts that you tried so hard to forget. your memory is an ignited dagger tonight, digging deeper and deeper into your sleep. your dreams are polluted and your body keeps tossing and turning, trying to escape the nightmare. trying to escape the past. your insides are boiling, and even though the fan is on you can hardly breathe. sit up straight. catch your breath. stand up. you walk over to the mirror to make sure that you are still the same girl whose mother kissed her goodnight just hours before. the same girl who laughed about her best friend’s silly joke two times too may and the same girl who performed tedx talks about the beauty of raw emotion and staying true to your mother tongue. this girl had depth and this girl deserved. but your face looks different in the mirror. did your eyebrows always furrow that way? and your lips, what could you have been dreaming about to make them so colorless? poor thing, you must have forgotten to moisturize before you slept because your skin is cracked and dry. where is the girl you remember being? that girl deserved. she stood up for women and love and truth and depth. she didn’t look this way, love. she didn’t look this way at all.
so you run your brush of mascara through your long, dark lashes the way your mother hurriedly clears the kitchen counter before guests arrive. quickly, you must appear more appealing. more attractive. more deserving. but your reflection isn’t changing. you’ve used half a tube of lipstick at this point, too. what did you expect, love. your eyes are responsible for this mess. you have let them see you crumble, your worth plummet, and your spine become putty in the hands of those less deserving. you take one step back. you look better as the distance increases. further and further away, your features melt into your sad face. your lips have touched others’, but never have they kissed any. my dear, there is a difference between being touched and being felt. you must allow yourself to be held tight. by someone special, but by yourself first. you walk closer to the mirror, your nose just centimeters away from the glass. you are human and you will heal. you must heal from inside, don’t worry about your face just yet. it will catch up when your heart and soul are done mending. but for now? walk with your shoulders back and your breath steady. chew your food many times before swallowing, it’s better for your stomach. braid your hair in the evenings and use your organic lip scrub as many times as you please. this, my love. this is how you fix the crack in your bedroom mirror.