Her

The Girl in the Mirror, I see her every morning, every night. She's what they see. She's the perfect daughter. The smart, responsible, well-behaved student. A great friend, no one seems to dislike her. She stares back at me, a faraway look, longing perhaps... but more sad. Her mouth shows a smile, the pretty little smile that everyone wants to see. But her eyes give everything away. If only someone looked a little deeper... a little further, if only someone found bothered to scratch beneath the surface, they would see a very different person.

They would see how imperfect she was. Every flaw. Every thought, every idea, a different side of her. They would see how she breaks every night, studying through the night, doing her best to perfect her grades for her parents approval. They would see how alone she feels, how she feels no one really understands her. How she thinks people only want to see the perfect Her. No one sees the tears. No one sees the anxiety. No one sees the nail-biting, the shaking knees, the constant little nervous ticks. She fears that someone will see it.

She fears someone will see it, and that no one will accept her anymore.

So before she steps out, she puts on the smile, and hopes no one sees the tears she has wiped away.

No one usually does.