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When I saw you across the room, I knew. I knew I wanted you and I suspected you wanted me. The room was filled with smoke and sadness and sex and self-pity, but you made all of that clear away with a single glance. What I didn’t know is you would hurt me more than any other person could. That you would make me wish thousands of times that I would die, but I never did.
It wasn’t that you outright set out to hurt me; it was the little things that killed me. The careless gestures, the fact that you forgot the everyday things we did, on normal days with nothing special.
You remember the time I fell asleep in the theater, and you laughed at me for hours? No, of course you don’t. It wasn’t that great a movie anyway.
I love you as much as I hate you, and I love you with everything I have. And I love you more than you could imagine. I gave you everything, darling, and you never deserved it. Not for a moment. I just imagined you did. All you did was use me, and slowly forget me as soon as I happened. You made me believe I was invisible, even though you were the only one who never saw me.
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I looked in the mirror and saw her looking back; her expression as frightened as mine. I looked away, and so did she. When I looked back I caught her staring right at me. I didn’t know her, and I don’t think she knew me; we were strangers on either side of the glass. Mother scoffed at my ‘tall stories’, and Father chided me for my childishness. Nobody believed me about the girl in the mirror. But she was real, as I was real, as real as can be.


Eventually we learned to live with the other face in the mirror, she and I, her and me. Never a word exchanged between us. I went about my business and she went about her’s. What she did in those hours apart I couldn’t guess, but when we met again each night as we brushed our teeth, it looked as though we’d taken very different journey through the world, though I imagine she thought much the same of me.

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