• I don’t want to tell you my name, because then you’ll know what to call me. I want to be invisible to you. If I give you my name, you can picture who I am. I don’t want that. I want to be that distant thing that you will always wonder about.

    I turned my head around and looked over my shoulder for a distant moment; I turned back around and stared right through the mirror. I looked at the face and it looked tired, distant and gone. I had let myself go in the past few months and no one, not even me, tried to lift me up and make it better again. I was completely alone, oblivious to the fact that I really wasn’t. I just kept saying that, and thinking it, and the more I thought about it, the more I believe it and I really was alone. And it hurt, it really hurt. To be forgotten is so painful, to forget who I was made it all worse. The meaning and thought of it are so ill-worthy. It makes you lose yourself; you lose yourself in the pain. And once you’ve gone past the part where you have felt the most intense pain in your life, you feel nothing. And to feel nothing at all is the most tragic state of your entire lifetime. I stared at the girl sitting in the mirror, she looked right back and she looked like she needed help, wanted help. But nowhere and no one could do it, no one noticed and she was too weak to reach out and talk. Rubbed my eyes and looking tiredly into the mirror, I got to the stage in my life where I couldn’t talk anymore, letting everything out was so hard that it could never even come out if I forced it too. Nothing could come from me, not even love. Everything seemed so insignificant and nothing made me happy. Some things could spark some sort of joy, but not happiness, not the real kind anyway. They were just shifts, you could feel it just for a moment, but then you shift back into the dark, those are fake shifts. I got up and leaned against the mirror and closed my eyes and choked back small tears. I was so sad. I didn’t know what to do right then and there. I didn’t know where to go and what was meant for me to do. I had been left alone in my room. After writing in my journals so many times, and reading back what I wrote, I now know that when I am alone, is when it is most dangerous for me. My mind, it’s the only thing that I’m truly afraid of.