The room I'm in is simple, nothing out of the ordinary nor anything to call of concern. But the only peculiar object in my room is a large mirror. It covered a small section of my wall, and to be honest, I didn't care. I simply liked it because I could see myself, and use it to check all of my angles.
I looked into the mirror, and I saw myself. I looked into my own eyes, before I took one long look at my own body. I frowned, because I didn't like what I see... so I went to my desk and pulled out clay with paint. After, I went back to my mirror and begin to mold it. It felt so nice to see my face changing before my eyes, I looked better, and the soft clay felt so nice on my skin. But I wasn't just satisfied with the plain grey color that the clay provided, so, I began to paint my new mask. I felt so free, it felt right to try and paint my new face to whatever I desire. In the end, I liked what I saw. My first mask came out better than I expected, and oh how I can't wait to show it to the world! It looked so cheerful and bubbly, but the ears I had? It had to be covered, because they were too big. Everyone saw my mask, and thought it was my face. I was getting away with it! Oh the joy I had, fooling everyone! It felt so nice to just pretend something I'm not, so, I kept it on. No one really saw my real face, and I thought that I'd be content with it. Oh mirror, thank you for being so useful!
But after quite some time, my first mask was starting to crack... parts of my face could be shown, and the only true part of my body I had was my eyes. I did not want to see my skin- not even my own eyes! Desperately, I slapped more clay on top of my old mask, and redid everything. Out came a new mask, more calm and thought provoking. My eyes would soften at the new colors it sees, for no one would ever remember the happy mask I had. When I showed the world my new mask, there was a sense of distance yet respect. I was rather content, happy, even. I was able to see things at a different light with my mask- it was such a gratifying experience... and although the mask underneath the new one is crumbling, the clay still felt as soft and warm as usual. But this time, I didn't want to see my lips, it looked way too big. Oh mirror, thank you for letting me see how I look!
It took the second mask much longer to start to crumble, and panicking, I was absolutely at a lose. I couldn't find any more clay, the paint I once had turned dry... I didn't want to see my eyes! Out of madness, I covered the eye holes of my mask with clay, and all I could see was darkness... but I never realized how hard it was to breathe through my masks, until now. I realized couldn't breathe- my body was sweating, I could only see darkness. I had no idea what I was doing anymore! I couldn't hear anyone, the screams for help were deafened and served as echos within my hollow prison. "Oh mirror, mirror on the wall! Please help me, I can't see!" I would shout out.
Without even a second thought, I threw my body to the floor and started to smash my clay masks against the floor or walls (I don't know where I was), but it didn't seem as if it was working and ended up hurting my own head. I tried scratching it off, but my nails ended up being torn off, and I could feel blood dripping down my fingertips. I even tried finding sharp objects, and kept banging my head against the tip of the sharp object- I believe it was a knife... but even such a lethal weapon only caused the uncomfortable sounds of blade running across a hard object, and perhaps the blade even broke. I didn't want to die with my face being covered in darkness.
I cried and cried, there was no one that could hear my pleas. I knew I was down on my knees, and I tried finding a wall... only to find my bloodied hands on top of a cold hard surface, and I knew what it was.
It was the mirror on the wall.
With one last try, I slammed my head forward, and I heard so many things shattering. The mirror on the wall shattered, and I could hear the sounds of large pieces of glass shattering into smaller pieces. Everything was hurting so much... but I began to feel the cold air touching my skin. I raised up my hands and felt my own soft face. I realized that the clay was not soft, but my face. I opened up my eyes, and I saw the mirror on the wall shattered, and when I looked down, I could see the blood coming from my hands and face. There was one large shard that I looked at though... and I saw my face, my true face. It was bloody, it was covered in tears, it was covered in scars, it was hard to see because of the clay covering my skin, it was hard to look at myself...
But it is me.