Circle of Life.

I stared at the girl in the mirror. She looked so ugly. I barely recognized her. Who was she?

I looked into her eyes. They were red. Blood shot red. They seemed as though they have been crying for centuries. I could see her cheekbones and literally no flesh could be tugged on her her petite face. She was so disgusting. I irked at the sight. I almost puked. Her mouth was torn. Cuts were all over her face. Perhaps due to abuse or self-mutilation. I was not sure myself....

I thought about her. I could not get her out of my mind. She lived in my dreams. She lived in my pain. My sorrow. My anger. My what nots...

I am trying so very hard to be strong. Yet, it just appears that being miserable seems hell lot easier than to be glad bout Life. I have to fight my own demons. The demons in my dreams come to Life constantly. When will they perish?

Absence either makes the heart grow fonder. That is what I hear. Yet, I think otherwise. It can make the tiny confused heart wither. Why not? It is just so hard to move on in Life without a whole heart. I pick the fragments of my shattered Happyness and hold onto it for the whole of eternity. Yet, for just one second I felt whole...

I miss the way I smile genuinely. I miss the way I laugh heartily. I miss the way I skip merily. I miss the way I jump joyfully. I miss me...