The Mirrored Eyes

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
The next is another short story of mine. Personally, i don't like it. It's about how a loss of self confidence is also a loss of self itself. When you let people critique who you are as a person, and you follow their words to try and change just so they will like you, you are no longer yourself, you might as well be the people who hate you in the first place.So if you can't tell, this story is a tad emotionally morbid, but if it makes you think about how you are as a person, then my job is done.

Read on, leave comments. Grammar is shity as usual.

Submitted: March 16, 2010

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Submitted: March 16, 2010

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I looked down at my hands, and they were exactly what i would imagine them to be, of coarse when you look at your hands, you know what your going to see. I stretched my fingers exposing my palm, every line and dip perfectly laid out for me to speculate upon. I stared for a long time, studying. But after a while, I could not recognize them. They were odd, something different, for the better or the worse i could not tell, but these hands...

I stood up sharply and walked to the bathroom and turned the light on. I looked into the mirror, and i saw myself. Baggy blood shot eyes, fat arms and a hairy belly that seemed to hang there, unwanted. I never really felt this way but it seemed as if the man i was looking at was not recognizable. Yes my hair, ears, lips and everything else was the same, but something seemed off. I looked at every part of my body in the mirror and saw something that i was not pleased with. I critiqued myself ruthlessly, picking out every last blemish and boil. Then i worked my way up to my eyes. I peered into them, red and flushed, tired from the days happenings. I realized something as i stared into my own eyes. These eyes that i have were the least recognizable pat about me. They were not mine... These are hateful eyes, mean and disturbed eyes. Because when i looked into the mirror, i saw who i was, the same man that always looked back cheerful and confident, but what was looking back from that mirror was not. The figured i saw in the mirror hated what it is was looking at. It was not me in that mirror. I felt judgement wash over me, disgust and disliking. I saw those eyes, and i knew now what was wrong. They were indeed not my eyes, but i knew whose they were. I saw them every day, all the time peering at me, blink from the right eye, blink from the left. The eyes that followed me where ever i go. These eyes in the mirror were a million eyes of those who were around me. Family, friends, strangers, all judging and looking for something. The judgment that i felt when someone looked at me with that same face the person in the mirror was giving back to me. I looked down at my hands and i did not hate them, but the eyes in the mirror did....


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