The
mirror - my best friend, my worst enemy, both at once. Staring into its surface for a lifetime, searching for and making note of every imperfection, every
bad place, every single thing I
hate. Eventually this list adds up to more parts than I have.
Staring into its surface during the hardest time of my life, counting each vertebrae, tracing each rib, smiling at my own self-destruction. The smirk of contentment glaring back at me from an unrecognizable face. Hollow cheeks, sunken eyes. I can see the outlines of my teeth through the side of my face. So this is happiness.
Thousands of situps, running in place for hours, all behind locked doors in the early hours every morning, quietly so as not to wake anyone. Barely allowing myself to breathe. Checking the mirror every minute and seeing, with disgust, the ugliness reflected back at me. Finally I pass out, remaining unconscious on the floor until my alarm sounds, only to begin again.
The mirror tempted me, tortured me, corrupted me. I was its slave, and freedom required a price I was unwilling to pay until it was a matter of life or death. I almost didn't make it.
The mirror is just an acquaintance now, just something I see every so often without a second thought. The battles between me and that piece of glass are over.