The Lady In The Mirror.

Hello, Mich.

I told you so, didn't I?
Did you listen? No.

Instead, you clawed your way back and hung onto every shred.
In hope, albeit false ones.

You thought you got it right this time. In all honest fervour, you smiled to yourself and thought what a clever little girl you were. Your moment had arrived, you assumed and immensely pleased, you allowed yourself to sink deeper than before. After all, you'd waited half your life for a moment like this. You felt that it was time to right the wrong, despite the irony clanging to be heard.

You deserved it. You'd expected it.
Now then, why does this pierce you deep?

You want answers, but words fail you. You're afraid of the equilibrium being tossed beyond recognition. And so, you suffer in silence, within the perimeter of literate license, if it may be deemed so.

It isn't known, Mich. It isn't.
And even if It does come to light, It wouldn't be cared for.
Would It?

Let It go, Mich. Let it go.
Don't you see it? Don't you get it?

What you've waited for half your life is not mapping out in the exact manner which you'd initially purported it to be. You've waited in vain.

What are you waiting for, Mich?
What would you say?

I don't think you've learnt your lesson, Mich. Not a single bit. You still harbour hopes somewhere that miracles would transfix their gaze upon you and somewhere, somehow, you'd emerge unscathed.

Yes, you want to know if you got the equation right at some point of time.
Yes, it hurts.

Don't cry, Mich. Don't cry.

I don't know what to say because, well, I am you, aren't I?

The lady in the mirror