Staring back at me through the glass of the mirror was someone I could not recognize. This girl staring back at me - she wasn't different at all. She was me. She was actually me. Yet, she wasn't. Staring back at me was the shell of what I once was, but the emotions she carried inside of her- that's where we divided. She was the shell of what once was. What could've been. Staring back at me through the glass of the mirror was someone I destroyed a long time ago. Someone whom I must say goodbye.
The old me.
About the Creator
Mel
Ever since I was a kid, I've always wrote for fun. I never saw anything of it; I just wanted to write just to write. That's why I love Vocal.
she/they
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Hall of mirrors
Things used to matter, before all the noise. And at that time when things still had meaning, there had been dreaming too, when dreams still mattered. And the brightest dream from those times was full of mountains and seas and smiles and the types of passion that absorbs you the way a dog is absorbed by witnessing something for the first time: with absolute presence, and awe.
By Giulia Viti3 days ago in Fiction
The Chicken Head
In the bustling town of Warri, located in Delta State, Nigeria, lived a couple named Daniel and Vera. They were known in their community for their lively debates and occasional quarrels, but their love for each other always prevailed. However, on this particular day, a seemingly innocent argument over a meal turned into a heated exchange.
By Emmanuel Ojenike7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Great work! Fantastic job!