I woke up in the woods, not a single soul in sight, not an animal, a bug, or even a person. All deserted, except for the trees that covered the magical looking forest. The sound of the leafs when the wind roared was the only thing keeping me in reality.

Nothing was normal, but the most strange thing was a mirror in the middle of a somewhat acre of trees and rocks, an ancient looking mirror. It l...

**WARNING: This story focuses on the struggles on self-worth and dark thoughts that inhabits the mind. Proceed with care, as it explores deep and challenging emotions.**

When I look in the mirror, I see a hideous monster. She had buggy eyes, yellow teeth, and a messed-up hair that looks just like an old, scary witch, and then I realized, it was just me.

I was the monster behind the mirror.

My n...

A blot. A blemish. I searched in vain for some visible scar, some defect of design, a cause rather than effect, because the effect - the image staring back at me - was beyond unrecognizable.

That’s not the whole truth, though. Not really. What I saw was in fact familiar, although I couldn’t have known how then. Familiar like deja vu - a fearsome sense that things don’t belong here, not like this...

When I look in the mirror, I don’t recognize myself. Where dark curls should fall, sit two horrific horns. My once fair skin replaced with crimson, reptilian scales. And my warm brown eyes are but demonic yellow orbs. Something is wrong. I must be cursed. Diseased! Terrified, I open my mouth to scream when I realize something.

My body is perfect.

Exactly the way it’s supposed to look. The narr...

I’m not who I say to be

Please just let me free

It follows me, it surrounds me

Why are you here?

Why do I only see you in the mirror;

yet you come out in my dreams?

I’m not who I say I am,

You don’t know me.

You don’t know what I see,

What happens when I go unleased.

It’s terrifying, It’s inside of me.

I’m not who I say to be!

Theres this demon, this thing.

When I look in the mirror, it moc...

“Get away!” I scream, while sobbing, over and over and over again. “I know you’re not real!” The monster doesn’t leave. It stays, because it is red hate, and black despair, and everything about myself I want gone.

I lower myself the the floor, banging on the ground. “Get out of my head!” I say to it, while it stands there above me, all high and mighty.

“Fight back,” my head tells me. ...

Generations gaze at me through my reflection. How many of their burdens have I been carrying.

I wonder if they feel free, now that they’ve moved on.

Or do they still feel the shackles of their traumas, their fears, their doubts, their limitations. Still chained to this world, through the strands in my DNA.

So many truths glaring at me. Do I have to be the one brave enough to confront them? Ack...

I used to love looking in the mirror, I kept many of them in halls. Everyone around would tell me how striking I was, how beautiful and pleasant I seemed. I loved hearing it, until one day. I was waltzing with glee through the halls of the palace when I noticed a new mirror. This mirror was grand. Probably the largest in the palace. The mirror had ornate gold details and flourishes. It was sprinkl...

I feel a hand grip my throat

Suffocating in the depths of my mind

The hand is my own...

When I look in the mirror I see the tiny version of me. I see the person who spent hours giggling and running about my backyard. I see the kid who promised herself that she would always be beautiful and would never judge herself. I am not sure where this mindset came from. I remember seeing the anti-bulling assemblies from my youth. They used common mantras like, you are beautiful, you are worthy,...