I stand in front of the mirror, and I can't decide. I don't know who I hate more: them, or myself. My hair is wavy and I pull it straight, wishing myself into a shape that isn't my own. Maybe if I pull hard enough I will become like them. I imagine these roots of my hair reaching all the way into my brain. If I pull hard enough, can I straighten out who I am so that I come out normal? I close my eyes and wish myself into a shape that isn't my own.
When I open my eyes, the girl in the mirror hasn't changed except for the tears in her eyes that didn't used to be there. I hug myself in the only embrace that seems to understand me and I let the tears splash against my arm. Salty waves crashing on the sand of my sun-kissed skin. I raise my head again to the girl in the mirror. My eyes are beautiful. They are more green when I cry, but when I look at myself, all I can see is sad.
I sink to the floor because I can't stand. The ache fills my rib cage and takes up all the space where my breath is supposed to be. My voice has become an echo that only I can hear. I'm starting to think that princesses were never locked up in castles with dragons. No dungeon could scar me more than these whispers and secrets that snake around my heart and steal myself from me.
I clench my small fist and just stare at it. My nails bite into my palm, but I don't care. I decide to build my own walls. Like the Egyptians of old, I'll build a coffin that looks like me on the outside while I'm busy dying on the inside. I stand up and look at myself in the mirror. I've changed already. I grab the flatiron. I hate them all, but I hate myself the most.
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