Ocean of Thoughts

Some days she would stare into the mirror for too long. She looked at her reflection. Her natural eyebrows were untainted of blades, and have grown of semi-diagonal sections, longer between the eyes and shorter on the other ends, made of almost seemingly perfect length.

Her nasal bridge is of fine shape. Her eyes of deep brown color, so deep they reflect a near black hue when you look at them. Her eyelids have a natural contour about them, different shades of brown. Her hair is black, had grown long in months of solitude, the threats of the new world after all, she had to confide herself for so long in her safe space.

Some days she would stare into the mirror for too long. Never in vanity but out of a sense of lost. She was looking for something, a part of her that she’s hoping to find hidden somewhere in her reflection. But all she sees is what she is now. Her face full of sorrow, sucking her into that void of loneliness. ‘What’s with the long look pretty face?’ They asked her on rare occasions that she’s outside, as if that’s all she ever is.

Some days she would stare into the mirror for too long. So long, she’s lost in thoughts, ideas rushing in her head that she should end it. Because she would think of smashing her face on her reflection in that rectangular frame. Let the blood gush out from that pretty face. Never mind the pain. She wants to put a stop to everything. Her frustrations, her anger, her consciousness and her breathing and leave the rest of this miserable world as it is.

But there were days when she looked at herself, and to her surprise had a tinge of hope in her eyes. She had not noticed it before, but there’s a certain glow about her that wasn’t there before. Faint yet visible, the glow of a survivor who had endured so much. Before she knew it she found herself going through transformation.

All this time, she thought that she was was only dragging herself to her everyday routine, ‘One more day.. Just one more day’, she said. Then before she knew it, she’s now farther, better, wiser than she was ever before. ‘Is this my reward for living?’, she asked herself. ‘Is this what life is all about? Enduring pain most days that you keep only to yourself because no one would listen, and on rare occasions that they do they make it all about themselves and not you.’ But there it is, a new hope. Out of nothing, there came something, a creation out of nothingness is what she thought of as divine intervention. The universe had heard her and has plans for her. She knows that now.

And in now, most days she would check on her reflection often, to see someone who wasn’t there before, the qualities that weren’t present before and she would often give herself a faint smile of her silent victory. For she knows, her time will come and her stories will be heard.