Hidden

As I wandered back inside, my mind was scattered. Like seeds in the wind. Ashes in the breeze.

I couldn't stand it.

She had to know that I was damned. She had to've seen it.

And yet, she chooses to compliment my eyes? The alleged windows to the soul?

Either she didn't see, or she chose to ignore it.

I wandered into a bathroom, and looked at myself in the mirror.

A ruined person stared back at me, closer to man than boy, but not quite one or the other.

But then I realized that I was seeing myself from my own eyes. I knew what was inside, so naturally it affected how I viewed myself. So I tried to look at myself through someone else's eyes.

That's not me in the mirror, I told myself. That was some strange boy. And then I could do it.

His dark hair fell across forehead, concealing part of his eyes. His nose was a bit crooked, but suited his face well. His lips curved slightly downward, and were certainly not thin, but were otherwise unnotable. His cheekbones were high, and very defined. But it was his eyes that stood out. They were a clear green, that had the slightest hint of blue; they were large and surprisingly soulful.

But then I saw the faint scars marring the pale skin, and remembered his past.

My past.