the girl you could have been

Mirrors can't be trusted, I've known that a long time. I would take a drink, braced against the sink, watching myself all the while. I wanted to trace my own destruction, but my reflection looked fine; far prettier and younger than me, yet her face so like mine.

"Who are you?" I would ask her. "And don't tell me any lies."
"I'm the girl you could have been," my reflection would reply.

From the mirror my demons have haunted me for most of my life. The perfection of my reflection taunting me with those inadequacies of mine. That's what they never understood, with all their questions of why; no matter what you see, I'm a wreck inside.

"Who are you?" I would ask her. "And don't tell me any lies."
"I'm the girl you could have been," little Miss Perfect would reply.

Then there was the thief who drew me into the mirror with her lies. She promised me love and freedom, but I barely escaped with my life. I avoid mirrors now; I'm a wreck, but not ready to die. And still she's there, beckoning me in with a promise and a smile.

"I don't believe you," I answer her. "I know you, you're nothing more than lies."
"I'm the girl you could have been," the mirror-thief replies.

But now I see a new demon, come to me with a new lie. A young girl, no more than eight, stares at me with familiar dark eyes. The red mark of her mum's hand is on her cheek, though she doesn't understand why. Of course, she's just another drunk's delusion; did I even ever have a child?

"Who are you, really?" I ask. "And please, no more lies."
"I'm the girl you used to be," the broken child replies.