I looked in the mirror for the first time in a year today. You might ask why I stopped looking in the mirror.
It was the day before my fourteenth birthday. My mother was stressing about finding a job after we just moved back to America, but nobody was hiring any English teachers at the moment. At least, that's why I think she did it.
I came back home from school that day. September 12th. My mothers arms were sliced open in multiple areas, blood still dripping down her fingers. A knife was in her lower abdomen as she dangled from the banister. She had killed herself.
I stopped looking in the mirror from that day on because every time I catches a glimpse of my reflection, all I would see was my mother. We had the same nose and chin, my hair the same brown as hers.
But that was not what I saw today. I had grown much more pale from the lack of sunlight. My brown hair had grown out from the time I chopped it off with scissors, forming natural curls as it cascaded down. My eyes had never changed, still being the same two different colors. I smiled at my reflection, for once seeing me and not my mother.
I had always been self conscious about my body. I had a smaller chest than the other girls in my class. I had known deep down that I was an okay, average weight, but I always thought that I looked fat in comparison to everybody else in the room. I always wore a skirt to try and feel more like a girl. I never wore makeup, mainly because I couldn't see what I was doing without a mirror (I stabbed myself in the eye with mascara multiple times), but also because I felt fake wearing even light makeup.
Now I looked in the mirror, smiling. Okay, I thought. My gap in my teeth has come back slightly, but at least I look okay. I no longer saw my mother, but instead I saw myself. And I was fine with that.
