She skipped into the bathroom with a seemingly jovial step, which only seemed as mechanical as the look of content on her face. Glancing at the window, she saw the early signs of a snow storm. Turning her head back to stare at the wall-to-wall mirror as if it really did not matter what she saw, she allowed her stolid expression to flicker. She was not pretty; she never would be. Short, stocky, and dark, she would never match the social expectations for beauty. She knew it too, but she had a philosophy for it. "If I am dark, then I am dark and that is the color of my skin. My height will forever remain as it is, and I happen to like it, because it surprises people when they see my need and credibility to lead. And if I'm fat… unhealthiness is something I can work on, but I refuse to unnaturally and painfully squeeze myself into a size zero."
She had a philosophy for everything. Her philosophies gave her strength, and her strength was her greatest ally. It was not good for her to not be strong; it was not good to be insecure. She had a philosophy for her current situation too. She needed to be happy, to find herself all over again and to move ahead in life. She had had her break down yesterday- one should have been enough. It was not good to dwell too much on an emotion that did nothing for one, helped one get nowhere. It was illogical and irrational- her brain knew this. Crying yesterday had been acceptable; she had not allowed herself to cry since the event, and yesterday it had been too much. The emotion had poured out unrestrainedly, with wild abandonment, with no verbal expression, and no coherency. But this was enough irrationality. It was time to find life again.
Awakening out of her thoughts, she found herself still staring into the mirror. The blue hollows underneath her chocolate eyes, emphasized by her olive skin did nothing to hide her unhappiness. Not even the carefully applied mascara, surrounded by the fading cake of her powdered foundation served to mask the lines etched around them. Her attempt at a single, neat braid had been skewed beyond recognition to the point where more hair was out of the folds and hair-tie and on the sides of her face, rather than inside the braid. The disobedience of her hair only reflected that of her feelings which refused to be repressed, and instead yearned to sigh and grieve over and over regarding the same subject. Outside, the snowfall slowly picked up speed and spun itself into a torrential spiral of crystals falling to the ground.
As she approached the mirror, she held her hand out so as to catch hold of the counter before it hit. Leaning on it with both hands, she pulled herself up to the mirror and leant her forehead against it, her eyes constantly boring into the reflection without really focusing on it. By this time, she could hear the turbulence of the storm. Unwillingly, she let a tear escape. Once one had done so, it was only natural that it would be heavily followed. But it was not enough.
Soon, the tears became wracking sobs, as she buried her face into the towel directly beneath her. She had done this yesterday; it was enough, it was enough! But such a thought only served to make the sobs louder. The snow outside had now turned into a blizzard and the wind battered and howled against the windowpanes in fury when it was not freely let in. It was pure, raw emotion- an unanswered passion.
But this would not do! She must heal, she must help herself. Such displays in the future would only threaten to consume her. She must conquer this now. Still leaning on the counter, she cautiously turned herself away from the mirror, as if too ashamed to face the out-pour she intended to bring forth. Allowing the tears to still fall freely, she began to speak in quiet, low tones. "When I lost you, I lost more than that someone who I had a relationship with; I lost more than my 'thing.' I lost my best friend, the emotionally closest human being that I had ever had in my life, someone who was closer to me than my own family, someone who I had willingly given every single emotion to and dealt with every single emotion in return. I lost someone with whom I had a very special connection, to make an understatement. I lost you. I lost myself- my happiness, my emotions, my passion, my ability to live, survive, grow, learn, and thrive. All that you had taught me, I lost. I don't know how to relearn it anymore; I lost such a huge part of myself that I'm still reeling with the shock. I am no longer blaming you. That will never solve anything. But I'm crying, unhappy, desperate, and angry because I want my life back. You have it and I want it back. And if you choose to refuse to return it, I will still find some way of getting it, because I enjoy living it. I enjoy it too much to part with it, and for my own selfish reasons, my life is too precious to give, even to you".
Lifting her eyes from the ground, at which she had been looking through the entire speech, she pulled herself upright and went to sit over by the window. The wind had subsided, but the snowflakes still fell. They darted in all directions, much like her thoughts which knew not whether to further dwell on her speech now and encore it into her or to leave it behind as another snowflake in the whole blanket that covered the ground.
Still restless, she stood up and walked over to stare at the mirror. This time, focusing on herself, she saw more than felt it coming. An intelligent thought was slowly, tentatively making its way out from behind her pupil. Grasping onto this nearly invisible thread, she started in recognition as the full force of it hit her, and bolted out of the room.
In a few seconds, she returned with a notebook and a pencil. This event, this subject was to be forgotten for now- it was the only way she could start to rebuild. But it was going to be stored for later, when it was not so painful to relive. In the future, she would need it to remind herself of its significance and consequences. She put the pencil to the paper and looked up to arrange her thoughts.
It had stopped snowing.
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