15 minutes to write 200 words, including a quick Google search ;) ...now to rest my arm and get some heat on it.
I toyed with two different directions to go with this... hope I chose right?
It’s unnerving the first time you look into a mirror and don’t see your reflection.
You tell yourself, ‘everything has changed’, you tell yourself, ‘the old you is dead’, but you’re still surprised. You still start when the familiar brush of dark stubble isn’t there, the angular jaw, the prematurely thinning hair.
Most of all is the unhappy eyes. You’ve looked at them so long, they no longer belong to you, rather, they’re like a partner you’ve woken up beside for ten, maybe fifteen years.
God, has it been that long?
Did you really wait that many years, dulling the despair with alcohol and daily prescribed serotonin boosters?
How did you manage, every morning, to talk yourself out of the relief a steady hand and a blade would bring, when you knew that, every night, you would desire it more than the whiskey, more than the dwindling bottle of Prozac? You would ache for it all to be cut away, everything wrong, everything painful, everything ‘you’.
You smile, and the reflection is unfamiliar. It’s beautiful. It’s happy.
It wasn’t you, but it is now. Along with the long chestnut hair, and the swell of breasts nestled in the pink negligee.