She stood there, staring in disbelief at her reflection. Could the person looking back at her from the mirror really be herself? She ran her fingers through her long dark hair and sighed. Her hair felt stringy, greasy even. She turned on the faucet and ran some cold water in the sink, splashing some on her face. She’d been crying and her once sparkling green eyes were red and bloodshot.
Her milk-like pale skin looked washed out instead of radiant and flawless like usual. She closed her eyes for a minute, wishing that all of this was just a dream, but when she opened them again her reflection was still there. She examined her silhouette in the mirror. She’d always been proud of her body before. But now she just looked sick, even delicate. The first word that came to her mind was fragile.
Almost as if you touched her with too much force she would break, shattering into thousands of tiny pieces. Had she ever really believed that running away from her problems was a good idea? She had thought that being on her own, living life in the fast lane would be fun and.
