"This," he pointed to the person inside the mirror, "is you. And only you have the power to make yourself better."
I stepped into the mirror and his words were heard by me but I did not acknowledge them. In front of me was a woman who had red eyes, cheeks and nose. Snot was running down her nose making it appear as if she had wiped it continuously, yet it was there. Then were the tears that ran wildly on my cheeks and had left dried marks along with wet ones that had been recent. Then came my hair which was sticking out in various places.
I looked worse than I did when I had lost my mother and the grief I felt was truly and comparable. Right now I said that that grief had been exceeded.
I touched my cheeks, it was slightly wet and I felt more sad. "I was never like this." I thought about the times when I could have, but I had been stronger.
"I know."
My eyes drifted to the man who was holding the mirror out to me.
