Pain is an inevitable part of our lives. We all lose people we love, people important to us, people that we feel like life would be incomplete without. But how can you even begin to go on when the person you lose is yourself?
It all started a long time ago. Back when I still looked in the mirror every day. Before catching my bus, I would gaze at the girl on the other side of the glass. That was back in sixth grade, when my hair was down to my chin. It framed my pale face like a halo, my blue eyes looking out at me like twin sapphires. I gave myself a little smile- lips as pink as the sunset- picked up my books, and ran to the bus stop.
But in seventh grade, I started to avoid the mirrors. The reflection of the beautiful blonde girl only angered me. I didn't know who she was... even if she was me.
I began to hate my reflection, ducking my head and averting my eyes as I walked by them. My hair grew out, down to my shoulders now. My nails, that I never bothered to trim or paint anymore, were too long and chipped. I stopped eating as much, just barley picking at my salad. I lost twenty pounds, and my hip bones stuck out, as sharp as needlepoints. It was summer, and traditionally the time when teenage girls show off their body in scanty bikinis. I was ashamed of my body- though I had always loved the water, not even my toes skimmed the surface of it. I was ashamed of my body as well as my face. Many a night I would just hug my bony knees to my non-existent chest and stare up at the moon, tears shining in the silver light.
The week before school started, I started cutting again. I used o do it, and badly. So deep the scars will never fade. It was a new school, and I was starkly terrified of it. That week, my mom knew something was wrong. I didn't dance around the kitchen, laughing and running into the island in the middle of it. I just sat in my room in size 0 jeans, drawing on my notebooks. One day- three days before school started, actually- she came into my room and sat on my bed.
"Rachael, tell me what's wrong. And don't you dare say nothing. I'm not blind, young lady." She said. The cuts I had made just that morning were still burning, and I hid them from view. Yet still my mom knew.
"We're going to get you through this, honey." She whispered, putting a hand on my cheek.My mom has never called me honey once in my life, and I saw a tear sparkling on her cheek. Then I realized that by hurting myself I was hurting her too. And since my mom has raised me singlehandedly since she escaped with me, I couldn't possibly hurt her.
Now I am at peace with my body. Every morning before school starts, I look at my reflection and smile.
"You are so beautiful, Rachael. Really you are." I say to myself every morning. Now I am 115 pounds, and the cuts are now just scars. But the experience will never fade... I will never forget how it feels to look in a mirror and hate the person staring back at you.