The Mirror Journey
The worst thing to lose and the hardest thing to find is yourself
The mirror didn't show him who he was
It only reflected his appearance
He saw a face staring back at him
It was someone he didn't recognise
"Who the hell are you?!" He shouted furiously
In reply, he saw the same rage reflected
~~~~~
The mirror didn't seem to know who he was
He was lost and devastated
Did that mean everyone lied to him when he was a child?
Because someone would always point to the mirror and say "Look, that's you!"
But he didn't know who he was anymore
~~~~~
The mirror seemed to not have the answer
It didn't understand the complexity of life
The roller coaster of emotions
The PTSD that came with trauma
The responsibilities that caused stress
And life itself which caused depression and anxiety
~~~~~
The mirror never helped him till the end
So he sought other mirrors to find out who he was
He asked every mirror he came across on his journey
At long last, he found out who he was
This particular mirror had all the answers
It was the mirror in his room at the mental asylum
__________________________________________
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About the author
Dharrsheena Raja Segarran
I'm a Certified Nutritionist 🌱 who loves to write ✒️
These are what I mostly write:
〰️ Fiction (Horror/Thriller)
〰️ True Crime Articles
〰️ Poetry
〰️ Health and Nutrition Articles
〰️ Anything That Piqued My Interest
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More stories from Dharrsheena Raja Segarran and writers in Poets and other communities.
Faerie
There once was a girl who loved fairy tales. She loved fantasy of any kind. Her mother introduced her to Jim Henson, Brian Froud, Steven Spielberg, George Lucas, and many others. She grew up in fantasy. She loved faeries, dragons, elves, goblins, swords, a bow and arrow, daggers, and mystical powers. She loved songs and dances too. She loved all the colors of the rainbow and believed in freedom. She dyed her hair pink, green, purple, blue, and yellow too. When she grew older she got tattoos and piercings. She read many books and wrote lots of stories herself. She loved to go to rivers, beaches, and lakes. She loved the forests. She'd sit on huge fallen trees and look at the sun as it filtered through the upper branches. She wore platforms, heels, fishnets, corsets, and wings. She wore skirts, tunics, colorful glittery shimmer and dramatic dark eyes. She wore fluffy hats, mittens like cats, gloves, and scarves two sizes too big for her. She wore pretty delicates that no one would ever see. But in the forest she would always go with bare feet. She took photos of herself all dressed up. She drew, painted, photographed, wrote, and composed. She cried, got angry, and got deliriously happy all over again. People stared at her, condemned her, chastised her. People made her sad, angry, and scared. Suicidal sometimes. Music made her happy, complete, spiritual, and not alone. So she danced outside her door, down the grassy hill, and into the woods. The wind blew her colorful hair all around. She danced through the trees, with them, and whistled with the wind. She kicked off her shoes and danced on the delicate grass and soft dirt. She jumped into puddles and squished mud between her toes. She looked up and followed the sun through the trees as she danced herself into a clearing. She looked down and saw herself inside a faerie ring. She smiled and danced excitedly. She spun in circles, lifted her hands to the sky, and closed her eyes. Then the ground shook. It broke apart beneath her feet. She let out a happy gasp as the earth swallowed her and closed back up. Somewhere a tree sighed.
By Amanda Lyons3 days ago in Poets
Comments (10)
I suffer PTSD, and this is exactly how the mirror makes me feel sometimes.
Loved it! Subscribing :)
Loved it!
Interesting perspectives.
Great insights and hard hitting.
Love it.
Gripping.
Wow. That had layers to it.
Fantastic!
Fantastic, intense, wonderfully written.