Bloody rags hang from the edge of the sink.
A bottle of alcohol,
Half empty,
Vodka —
Neat.
A bottle of pills,
Half full,
Benzos —
Crushed and swept into neat lines on the porcelain.
Thin ribbons sway upwards into a building blue-gray haze.
I stare down at the stale heap of charred stubs,
The gritty pitch built up on the crystal beneath them like a scaling sour crust —
I wonder —
If that is how I look inside.
Hoisting the tarry pillar between my fingers,
Drawing long and hard,
Inhaling deeply before releasing it in a thick veil,
Obscuring my reflection so I do not have to face the one I hate the most.
Sometimes,
I cannot bear it —
Those eyes staring back into mine.
Weighing my flaws.
Stripping away the pieces I fight to keep.
Looking down at me past that soon to be broken nose.
Blood running down between my fingers,
I grab a fresh rag,
Pressing it against my flesh as the alcohol burns my throat and the pills line the passages of my freedom.
The tally has long outgrown the ledger,
Of how many times I attempted to bargain with shadows.
Ten —
Was my first.
Two months ago —
My last.
Before, after, and in-between —
Trying, to say the least.
Caught in the eyes of the felled pieces rolling in the sink,
Quickly turning from their hollowing sight as I pull another shard from my hand,
Another rag.
Mirror people.
It’s like a reflex when I walk by.
Uncontrollable.
Uncontained.
Unflinching.
Fist — Mirror.
The glass never falls in a straight line,
It shatters and explodes,
Scattering into corners, hidden beneath furniture, finding its way back to me from another room as it impales my bare foot.
Some left dangling in their frame, waiting for the right moment to fall, shattering any bit of peace I may have found since.
Every piece has a different line, a different path, different zigs and zags on its jagged edge.
Just like yesterday,
Tomorrow —
I will have to pay.
But today —
I make no bargain.
I sweep up the lying eyes.
I bandage the bleeds.
Progress is a fractured thing,
Stepping backward just to find the floor,
But I am still here —
Learning to look at the wall where the mirror used to hang.
Author’s Note:
This piece explores themes of severe mental health struggles, addiction, self-harm, and suicide. If you or someone you know is going through a difficult time, please remember that support is available and you do not have to carry it alone.
Crisis Resources (Confidential & Available 24/7):
Canada & United States: Call or text 988 to reach the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline.
United Kingdom: Call 111 to reach the NHS mental health services, or call Samaritans at 116 123.
Australia: Call Lifeline at 13 11 14.
Crisis Text Line: Text HOME to 741741 (US and Canada) or 85258 (UK) to connect with a crisis counselor over text.
International: If you are outside these areas, please visit findahelpline.com or contact your local emergency services.