The Right to Exist

 "Come here, sweetheart," the voice calls out to me. I turn about my head, searching for the source of this voice. I end up seeing no one around but me—me and a mirror in my room to show me how much of a mess I have become. "I missed you, you know," the voice calls out again. This time, I walk around my room. Perhaps, a friend of mine is playing a trick on me. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I knew the voice…like, really knew the voice. "You won’t find me in plain sight," the voice coos at me. I feel as though I am being toyed with. Suddenly finding myself in front of the mirror, I look at my reflection and I see a smile smeared across the face that should have been mine. "Ahh. You’re finally thinking out of the box," the voice says to me—smiling at me so eerily. Out of shock, I freeze on the spot. Is this some kind of sick joke? "Of course not. It’s simply me speaking to my dearest sweetheart," the girl in the mirror says. Her voice scares me even though I’ve come to realize that her voice is mine as well. My hand reaches for my lips, as if trying to draw my mind out the illusion. I am not smiling, and yet the reflection still is. She’s not touching her face; both her hands are on the floor. We are both sitting crossed legged, and I stare at her hair for a while. This girl obviously looks like a complete mess, but why am I so captivated by her beauty? Why can’t I look like that? "You do. You look this beautiful all of the time," she says to me. I freeze again. I must have been drugged or something… "Nope. This is reality—well, as much of a reality as anything could be, anyways." Her smiling still seems bright, yet I can’t help but to be creeped out. I do not trust her: this girl in the mirror. She must be a liar. She must be a dream. She must be a fraud. She has to be. "But, I’m real," she calls out to me. "I’m as real as you are. Wanna see?" I don’t dare answer. "Look," she begins to say as she reaches for something in her pocket—my pocket. I see her hand revealing a metallic surface shining in the light; it was a razor. I bought one today after realizing I lost possession of mine last night. The sudden urge to look at my left arm overcame me. Suddenly, I started feeling a searing pain, and liquid trickled over my left arm. I look at the mirror’s reflection, and I see her work. She was using it—my razor—to inflict wounds on her left arm…my arm. I want to open my mouth to scream out “STOP!”, but I can no longer feel my voice. My voice became trapped every time I opened my mouth to speak. "Do you believe me now?" she asks me as her eyes suddenly change. She scares me more than ever. Her facial expression hasn’t changed, but I see the change. I see the difference. The reflection runs her right finger across the wound, and I flinched. I want to grab something to stop the bleeding because I do not want to bleed out. I do not want to die. But I feel frozen. I feel trapped. "Now, now. Stay calm there, sweetheart. I missed your presence so dearly. Won’t you pay me some more mind?" she taunts. I don’t know what it is to do now. I am scared. I am so scared. I want to fight. I want to win. But how do I defeat something I can not even begin to explain? How do I beat someone in the same league as myself? She knows everything, I’m aware of that now. Every piece of knowledge that belongs to me, belongs to her as well. I understand that now. So, how do I fight? How do I win, when I can barely even understand how she came to be so much more powerful than me…even though she is me? --; May 2nd, 2013 This is supposed to personify the "demon" inside the hearts and minds of those who go through depression. I know a lot of people who don't go through depression don't understand it, but this is what it feels like a lot of the times. You don't realize what you are doing until it's already done and all you're left with are questions as to why you even did it. And on a complete other note: this is actually written in present tense...huh. I never realized it.