through the looking glass

My finger slides against the cool, smooth glass. I stare at the reflection surrounded by the faint light of street lights outside. My eyes gaze at the ones copied in the mirror. I try not to blink when I stare at them. Those bright blue crystals, that follow my every move. I press my hand to the glass. She does the same. The touch chills my skin and lends in my hollow bones. I open my lips but don’t make a sound. It pains me to see her like that. Filled with sadness and deflated, quieter with each passing day. My lips form into a weak smile. She tries to mimic the expression but fails. It pains her to pretend, even if she does it so well - on most days. Yet with me, she can’t and she knows it. My fingers shift as if I want to touch her face and cup her cheek. I care for her deeply. Even if I constantly let her down... yet I also know that she tries, that she fights. Maybe she’s not best at it, maybe she should have done a lot of things differently... but she tries, she really does, she tries to give her best to people. Despite all of her flaws_ her cracks_ her damaged parts. My lips finally find their voice.

Please don’t be sad, it breaks my heart to see you like that.

She doesn’t answer, just mimics my every move. She doesn’t know how to do this life on her own. She just repeats, in fear that someone will notice_ and in hope that someone actually will.

.