What do you mean I'm not real?

The mirror showed a reflection that wasn't my own.

I thought the difference was just in my head, but it is becoming clear that that was not the case. She looks the same but something is… different.

I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong after looking in that mirror. The mirror that used to make me feel like I knew who I am, has turned into not recognizing myself when I look in the mirror. Who is that girl? Her smile is different and her hair is less frizzy. Her eyes… They look like they have more life in them than mine do.

“Get ahold of yourself,” I hear the voice in my head say as I shake off the feeling. “You’re making something out of nothing, again.” Shaking off the feeling, I continue tidying up my house. Folding the laundry, doing the dishes, the mundane tasks that have been put off far too long.

After a few hours of cleaning, now soaked with stress sweat and filled with satisfaction.

“You did it! Great job at being an adult…finally.” The voice in her head is always there to add in the self doubt and guilt.

Rolling my eyes at my snarky subconscious, I decide to take a shower to wash off the day. While undressing I notice some bruises on my stomach and back. Panicked, inspecting the injuries and trying to figure out why they are there

Muttering to myself as I step into the steamy shower, “I didn’t go that crazy cleaning, did I?”

Forgetting the bruises as soon as the hot water runs down skin, comforting and calming, until the water runs cold.

Getting out of the shower I wipe the mirror with the towel, gasping at what I see.

A girl. She kind of looks like me, but she is now covered in bruises on her face and looks feral.

Moving closer to inspect the reflection, the girl opens her mouth and screams, shattering the glass. Watching the shards fly everywhere, leaving tiny cuts and large gashes on her already injured body. She falls out of view and I look down thinking she would be on the floor, as it seemed so real.

“Ouch” A hot searing pain explodes in my foot. I look down to find glass is strewn across the floor. I look back at the mirror to see that the reflection is now my own. A creepy grin spreading across my face as I look at my mangled reflection.

Bringing my hand to my face, I feel the warm blood trickling down my fingers, but I am not smiling.

“What is going on?” I ask the reflection hesitantly.

The me in the mirror disappears and there is nothing, I can no longer see my reflection.

Hot panic runs down my naked body as I run to get my cell phone. Noticing that the house is not my house. A rundown room with a soiled bed, paint peeling off the walls, and a man coming into the room.

“Who are you? Where am I? What is going on?” Gasping the questions out in their own single breath.

The man stares at me confused, “what do you mean? Are you manic again?” Reaching for me as he walks slowly towards me.

I run to the bathroom and it is not the same. Nothing is the same. I sit down, feeling the broken glass cut into my exposed skin.

“Am I going crazy?” I hesitantly ask the man that is still making his way towards me.

“You’re not going crazy Harlow,” taking me into his corpse like arms. “You just get confused sometimes. You get caught in the delusion that you are a real person. You created a life that is not your own to deal with the fact that you are no longer amongst the living.” He rocks me and I find comfort in this mans arms.

I weep as I can’t remember anything about myself, my life or who I am.