Archive of Our Own ^beta

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I am the little girl looking in the mirror, only to see the disgrace I have become.

I give her a warning that I know she won't understand, because I was once in her place, hearing the same warning before our disgracement.

Because I was once the little girl looking in the mirror at the disgrace that I would become.

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I knew a boy who always wore a fig leaf in his hair.

One day he did not.

But that leaf was his life,the life I gave him, so I knew it was not him but a only a demon in disguise.

All I could do is imprison the demon in a cell, and wait for my baby boy to return.

But he can only return back to me after he vaquishes the underworld he has been trapped in.

No matter how long it will take my sweet, baby boy to return back home to me, I will always be waiting for him.

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I am a murderer to myself.

And I have noone else to blame, but myself in the mirror and me.

Because the mirror self only exists to mock me, and I only exist to be mocked by the mirror.

And the mirror mocks me, and I listen, because everyone says to be honest to yourself, and that's what I'm doing.

But I can't help but feel like I'm doing something wrong, and for the life me, I can't figure out what it is.

So I asked the mirror my questions. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Why do you mock me?"

"...."

'Because that's my job klein meisie.'

"why I am the only one who is mocked by you?"

"....."

'Because you, klein meisie, are the only one who has given me a voice.'

"When did I give you a voice?"

"...."

'You will have to remember that, klein meisie, as jy vry wil wees.'

"What is your actual name?"

"...."

'I go by many names like onsekerhede, depressie, selfveragting, and selfminagting.'

"Where are you from?"

"...."

'You should know this, klein meisie, na alles wat jy my gemaak het. Ek is net al jou onsekerhede waaraan jy 'n stem gegee het.'

"One last question, who are you?"

"...."

'ek is jy.' ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So with that, I leave my mirror self with only more questions then answers.

I move back to my room to write down all the mirror's answers as she doesn't like to repeat herself, and I also will need to remember this information when I eventually return back to this place when I wake up.

I put my pen down and reach for the pill bottle and take a few.

I don't care how many, just as long as it gets the job done.

As I start to pass out, I can feel my heart struggle to beat as it gets harder to breathe.

I feel a hand run along my head methodically, as the hum of a lullaby can be heard. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Good...night... mirror..."

"..."

'goeienag dogtertjie' ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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I feel like I've lived past lives before.

Maybe I fell in love, maybe I'll see them again.

Maybe our love story wasn't meant to end with three lovers burning at the stake for loving each other, simply because of who they choose to love.

Maybe our love story wasn't meant to end in tragedy because we were being dumb teens in love, hunted down by fathers that are meant to love and protect their daughters.

But in an case, we were always together; raised together, lived together, loved together and died together.

Locked arm and arm, burning on a cross too big for our young bodies to carry.

All because of hatred disgiused as a religion.
All in the name of a God I know is loving, but the people who claim to be his followers are not.

Maybe in this life we can all escape from this place that we were raised, and live happily ever after together in our own little world where noone can find us.

But maybe not.

Because life isn't a fairytale, and even though we have found each other, 1 of the 3 is still trapped in a house not a home.

So I asked you both to wait for me, but don't stop loving each other because I am not free yet.

I will join you both in our little world soon.

Because in this life, I plan on growing old with you two.

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I've always been told by the older members of the last church I went to that, "God gives his greatest battles to his strongest warriors,"
but I am just a child, and I've always been a child.
I could go on and on about how I didn't need to be the strongest.
How that was a race I wasn't running in.
How come any time I talked about my mom it was always met with
"Oh she's so strong, having to fight her cancer again,"
or
"you must be so proud of her for beating cancer again."
But what about me.
How do you think I feel and felt every time she would come back from the doctor and says
"I have cancer again."
You don't think about how I stretch myself thin trying to do schoolwork, housework, and socially keep our family's image of this perfect picture in a beautiful frame from collapsing and shattering everytime someone asked
"hey are you doing OK?"
or
"Do you feel alright, you look like you're going to be sick or pass out."
And of I'd love to say that
"no, I'm not okay"
or
"no, I don't feel alright, and I'm probably ten seconds away from throwing my guts up and passing out right after."
But I couldn’t and I can't.
Because if I did, everyone's worry and attention would be on me with that same line being said again and again,
"oh, well you know God gives his greatest battles to his strongest warriors,"
and it makes me want to scream that
"I NEVER WANTED TO BE THE STRONGEST"
or
"THAT I NEVER WANTED TO BE A WARRIOR IN THE FIRST PLACE!"
But instead I say
"thank you for your kind words"
or
"you really are too generous."
Because I'm just the quiet, poliet, kind little girl who would do anything to help her family.

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This is more of a reminder to me, but since I am drowning with school work and I have family in town, I won't be able to add more poetry to the pile I have here. Hopefully after the holidays I won't be so busy, but we'll see. Thanks for reading and I hope you have a wonderful holiday season.

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Oh, my darling wildflower, growing free in vast valleys.
How I long to run through the fields of indian paintbrush and blue bonnets, of yarrow and lavender,

searching under and around every tree and rock to find you, my beautiful, exquisite wallflower.

I would search earnestly, seeking your Ineffable presence.

Nomatter how crowded it may be, be it party, ball, or gala, I will still continue to look for your unfathomable and Alluring companionship that is as addictive as the richest wine the world could offer.

For you are my life, the air I breathe, the sustaince I need, and even that can't begin to explain how much you mean to me.

You are my whole world, my galaxy, my entire universe. You are everything I could ever want and more.

You make me write sonnets and arias, trying and failing to capture the wonderous glory that is everything about you.

You are, in all meanings of the word, the embodiment of perfection. From the grace you walk with, to your spectacular smile, even you marvelous singing is always and will always be perfect.