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In My Place

La-la-la-la.

I stood in front of the mirror lamenting what I’d become.

La-la-la-la.

I had a piece of glass in my hand stained with shades of red.

La-la-la-la.

I closed my eyes expecting to find an answer, all I could see were little silver dots slowly reverting to black nothingness.

La-la-la-la.

I hummed on. In front of me was the pale ghostly version of a person I once knew. A shadow, I was scared of her. She stopped a tear in its tracks. A sly smile danced on her lips, on my lips. “Come closer”, she said. I crept towards her. She showed me her arms, her legs, her hands, and everywhere I looked, I saw red. A monotony of color. It intrigued me as much as it horrified me.

She beckoned and I crawled towards her. Finally, my face touched the cold surface of the mirror and she disappeared. I stayed like that for seconds, minutes, hours awaiting the proverbial ‘new day, new beginning’.

I kept searching for her, my comrade in arms. I concluded that she had given up too, maybe she had gone to a better place. I felt that I had to do the same but I did not know how to. The futility of this situation had just begun to dawn upon me and I was terrified, I was alone. I screamed, I cried, I begged for her to come back. Silence had never been this excruciating.

I moved away from the mirror and I saw her. I smiled, she smiled. She had come back for me. My faith had been reinforced and I didn’t feel lonely anymore. I was happy, I began to hope.

She whispered a lullaby and I fell into a deep slumber.

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About Staircase Wit

Things I am: French obsessed, 'J'ai vingt ans'. Suicidal ( Ah, who am I kidding? Just plain old depressed me reporting for duty.) Morbidly obese. ( I actually am. My mother had me checked. (TBBT reference)) Things I am not: Everything excluding above mentioned. Obviously.

2 Responses to In My Place

  1. This almost made me cry in its sad beauty.

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