The mirror was a taunting symbol that reminded him that he’d never be normal.
Everyday after returning home from school he’d write on the mirror explicit profanity that the other kids called him. This mirror that hung on his wall was rather large, and sadly, almost completely covered in these words.
Faggot.
Loser.
Cunt.
He’s been called them all before so often that now he believes them, looking at himself in the mirror and shouting these words at himself before turning away from his image in disgust.
When he was little, he was always told that words could never hurt him. This was a bogus lie. The words hurt more than the physical abuse of those who have bullied him. The words would leave deeper, more everlasting scars than all the physical bullying could ever do.
This is why he wrote the words on his mirror, as a reminder of these hellish scars that plague his mind when he’d lie in bed at night. He almost wished they would stop, but in reality he knew they never would.
Retard.
Freak.
Cocksucker.
The list went on and on. He knew he couldn’t change who he was, and for that they tormented him. He screamed at himself for it, rage in his eyes as he fought battles against the mirror- battles he knew he could not win.
He just wanted to be accepted, but he understood that the cruel world of high school would deny him this for his remaining years there. The mirror taunted him with this deviously, and it only brought more hatred on the poor boy’s self-image. The mirror was his demon, his devilish companion whose sole purpose was to reveal inner conflict and pain. It was almost as though it was laughing at him, too.
Nerd.
Pussy.
Homo.
He’s cried over all this pain over and over, but now he wonders if he has any tears left. As he yells into the mirror he cannot even keep eye contact with himself out of the huge distaste he has for the person he is described to be.
But things all changed the day the mirror filled up.
The moment he realized it, he looked into the mirror and made eye contact with himself for the first time in ages. His own eyes gripped him into a trance. Something new in him stirred.
“It’s time to end this,” he said to himself, watching his eyes in the mirror. He fumbled around for something solid and powerful, and found a small hammer. Then with a satisfying crunch, he brought it to the mirror, watching the delicate shards of glass glimmer and float to the floor.
He had finally done it.
He had finally conquered his inner monster, finally defeated what had been holding him back. They’re only words, he thought, and their power couldn’t hold him back anymore.
And they never did.
~The Mirror, by Nikii P
This piece is based off my own ideals and expirences, and I hope that it shows that even if you cannot stop bullying, you can overcome it without changing who you are. It must be remembered that one will always have hope, and that you can make your world much better.
You Will Rise Project 