It's the middle of the day, the sun shining brightly down upon the world. I should be smiling, I should be overjoyed. Yet, I feel nothing. It's almost time to get ready for work, I cringe at the thought of meeting my reflection face to face. I know what she whispers behind my back, that evil girl with my features. Her words are like a knife to the soul, crushing, and unforgiving.
I've put it off long enough, I must face her. My heart races as the bathroom draws near, the harsh light illuminates my fears. There in the full length mirror she awaits with accusations building in her icy blue eyes.
My lips are pressed tightly together, hers part as the foul words create a negative connection between the two of us, what hopes I held for a bright new way of thinking are lost to the darkness consuming my ears.
"Look at those flaws you try so hard to ignore, you will never be good enough. He can, and will do so much better."
She is right, a year spent starving myself close to death and I am still far from perfect. There is still fat on my body, skin too lose to tighten. The doctors themselves said that my baby flab will always be there and the only correction would be surgery. She is right damnit, I keep trying to be happy with a sham of positivity.
"You're stupid, and worthless. It's no wonder you fear of being left to rot. It's all you deserve."
No, that's not true. But even as my minds screams it I know she is right on this too. I am worthless, I am stupid. I don't deserve to be in a happy wonderful relationship or am able to trust in my own instincts.
"Why would anyone want to do you right? Why would anyone ever be in love with you? You have nothing to offer in your vile land of clinginess, and suspicion. Why do you think people lie to you over the stupidest things? It's because you aren't worth the truth, the time it takes to bloom. You're a passing fling, a good lay. You're not worth the long haul, the struggle."
Stop it, just shut up. Beads of sweat pour down my face, my cruel twin smiles in my misery. She hit her mark, and she knows she has won. I'm not good enough, I'm not worth a dime. Finishing my hair and makeup, I slip on my clothes and hastily leave her behind. The boy I lay with, the boy I want, he tells me he loves me. I smile and say it back. As I walk out the door, and down the stairs, I can't help but to doubt his words. I can't help but to think that as soon as I pull away another will be over to take my place. And as I sit at work, tolling away eight worthless hours on shitty pay, I can't help but to wonder when he is going to say those same exact words that the girl in the mirror has the balls to say.
Why should he love me? Why should he care? Is his love all I deserve; the blantant lies, and empty promises?
Please, I shout inside, let the numbess take over and make the Atelophobia die.