I gave her a quick look, but something struck me. Though she looked the same as usual but her eyes were not the same. I also saw some scars on her. I turned back to examine her closely. Watching me coming closer, her eyes filled with torment, started flooding with tears. As if she wanted to talk to me for a long time. That puzzled me coz I always make it a point to meet her daily before leaving and after coming home from work, then why and what she wanted to talk about. And why she looks so different today. What was bothering her? From where she got all those scars on her.
She had a completely blank look on her face, yet I knew, I could tell from those eyes, that she was secretly screaming, begging me for help. I wanted to console her, I extended my hand to touch her but all I could touch was the surface of the glass. I felt she was prisoner behind the bars who was getting punishment for the crime that she never committed. For a moment I felt that I made her prisoner, am the culprit of all her scars and wounds.
I tried reading her lips that were saying, “I keep caring for each and every person but nobody cares for me and loves me. I always try not to hurt anybody’s feeling but people keep on hurting me. Am surrounded with so many people but I am still lonely, please let me go away, go very far from all these problems, go very far from all the selfish people, please let me go.” I couldn't believe that I was witnessing such anguish.
Suddenly she began to cry harder and at that point, I began to cry harder as well. I was feeling so helpless. There was nothing I can do for that beautiful soul, except stand there and watch her soul bleed and scream those words over and over again.
I wanted to kill all those persons who hurt her that bad that she wanted to kill herself, that her eyes lost shine, that her words were painful. Suddenly, I got an eerie feeling that I knew them; had met all of them before.
Then, like a bolt from the sky, reality struck; I heard myself crying out those words that I thought the girl had been screaming, heard them escape my own mouth. I began to cry even harder as I looked at the girl in the mirror, the one who'd seemed like such a stranger before, then looked down and saw the scars on me. I looked back at the girl in the mirror, realizing too late that I knew her all too well.
I stopped crying out those words long enough to whisper at her, "I'm sorry for making you who you are." Her eyes, now red and puffy from the crying, looked sadder than ever before for a moment, but then, just like that, her face went blank again, and I knew that she was suppressing all the anguish. I wanted to stop her, but I couldn't. I wanted to touch her but I couldn’t. So, taking my hands down from the mirror at the same time as the girl, I began to back away, because I knew she wanted to be alone. Because I knew that I wanted to be alone after taking that painful journey into myself.
