I use to think that girl in the mirror was me. The easy smile, the constant laughter, her vivacious personality, I use to know that girl, use to be so in tuned with her, use to identify with her, use to love her, use to respect her.

Today, I stand in front of that very same mirror--I wonder who that girl is, the one with the soulless eyes, the one who attempts to smile but doesn't really quite succeed--she laughs on cue, and acts like the social butterfly she was cast as--on the front everything seems to be okay.

One day she decides to end it all.

I watch her shatter the mirror wall--with one hand she pick up a sharp, jagged piece, and with one swipe she ends her pain. Ends the lies.

There she lies motionless, lifeless, on the brink of death, silently crying for help--

I watch her slowly go to pieces.