The Saints Of Mibba
Reflection in a Broken Mirror.
Who Am I?
Staring at her reflection through the mirror asking, because she didn't know. She always wonder why life wasn't like any of her books, or her favorites movies. Nothing was in order she was gazing at a perfectly imperfect mirror. When she looked at herself it was a look different from many, a look that held meaning and sorrow, regret, but not tomorrow.
She saw something that others missed. Standing strong and tall and never giving up on herself. People laugh at her because she's different and speaks only when spoken to. A world colored black and white is what she sees through her golden eyes.
A mirror can be deceiving hiding the truth and feeding the lies making her feel like what she's seeing isn't really there. When she is alone glaring through the two way mirror she thinks about what's out there. She wants to scream, but doesn't all this bottled up anger is wait to tip over spilling out her most darkest thoughts.
If you don't like who you are fix it your reflection says. The worlds see's you different then your very own mirror, a mirror you wouldn't trust with your life, but you have no choice because everywhere you go there will always be a mirror looking you dead in the face.
Shattered pieces of her life fall to the ground as she stands over it looking at herself. Millions of tiny particles share the same image leaving nothing, but a broken soul behind.
Now she never looks thought a mirror again, because what good comes from it. You never see your real self anyway's only but a thousands eyes staring back.
*****
My name is Delonna and I don't know who I am, honestly. I'm 16 years old and I have OCD. That is obsessive compulsive disorder. My whole life ticks like a clock and moves and repeats like one to. I can't do something unless it feels right, or I repeat it over and over never caring if it's done properly. Once an image is in my head it will never go away. I hide from myself knowing that it will never be okay and I'm scared of growing up and facing the world.
I know many people fear it, but I'm probably the first to admit it. Doing what I love doesn't make who I am. I love writing and without Mibba I would be a lost soul in my house. Everyday I wake up constantly repeating my daily routine living my life doing nothing. I feel I could do so much more with my life, but I don't. Apart of me doesn't care, but the other part wants to make a difference and change this feeling. I write to escape reality and I know when I read and write I'm alone without truly being alone.
Staring at her reflection through the mirror asking, because she didn't know. She always wonder why life wasn't like any of her books, or her favorites movies. Nothing was in order she was gazing at a perfectly imperfect mirror. When she looked at herself it was a look different from many, a look that held meaning and sorrow, regret, but not tomorrow.
She saw something that others missed. Standing strong and tall and never giving up on herself. People laugh at her because she's different and speaks only when spoken to. A world colored black and white is what she sees through her golden eyes.
A mirror can be deceiving hiding the truth and feeding the lies making her feel like what she's seeing isn't really there. When she is alone glaring through the two way mirror she thinks about what's out there. She wants to scream, but doesn't all this bottled up anger is wait to tip over spilling out her most darkest thoughts.
If you don't like who you are fix it your reflection says. The worlds see's you different then your very own mirror, a mirror you wouldn't trust with your life, but you have no choice because everywhere you go there will always be a mirror looking you dead in the face.
Shattered pieces of her life fall to the ground as she stands over it looking at herself. Millions of tiny particles share the same image leaving nothing, but a broken soul behind.
Now she never looks thought a mirror again, because what good comes from it. You never see your real self anyway's only but a thousands eyes staring back.
*****
My name is Delonna and I don't know who I am, honestly. I'm 16 years old and I have OCD. That is obsessive compulsive disorder. My whole life ticks like a clock and moves and repeats like one to. I can't do something unless it feels right, or I repeat it over and over never caring if it's done properly. Once an image is in my head it will never go away. I hide from myself knowing that it will never be okay and I'm scared of growing up and facing the world.
I know many people fear it, but I'm probably the first to admit it. Doing what I love doesn't make who I am. I love writing and without Mibba I would be a lost soul in my house. Everyday I wake up constantly repeating my daily routine living my life doing nothing. I feel I could do so much more with my life, but I don't. Apart of me doesn't care, but the other part wants to make a difference and change this feeling. I write to escape reality and I know when I read and write I'm alone without truly being alone.
♠ ♠ ♠
by Lonna