The other M.E. (3/4)
⬅️ is one of anger, of spite. Is she really me? She looks like me but younger, but this fire I haven't seen before, why do I feel her breathing on my face? I look into her eyes they aren't dark anymore it is true blackness. The tiles vibrate, what is this, what is going on she rama her head against the mirror and I feel the pain, my knuckles and palms start hurting as well... Her face is so contorted. She doesn't smirk or smile she is furious. My eyes start to hurt as if something presses against them from inside my own skull. My heart beats faster as my skin turns into fire, I feel slapped as her had bangs against the mirror. I smell her breath, some sort of crackling, breaking noise. My hands... Fingers fingers slip out of the wall, they look like ceramic. I hear her distorted voice screaming at me and I understand the word. "How dare you to look at me! You betrayed me! You stole from me, I could have everything. You ➡️
#WordWeavers 01.12.2925 #TheOtherME

The other M.E. (2/4)
⬅️ under her right fitted business blouse, white colored slim and a business telling skirt. Her hair is completely black like my natural color, her face has less scars and she looks like me if I would've aged more gracefully. I lay my hands next to the mirror onto the cold tiles, flat. I stare at her. Her eyes are as dark as mine. Her eyebrows are moving up as she lays the hands on the tiles too. The cold material feels suddenly warmer. I hold my face closer to the mirror as she comes closer too. My head is hot like I have a fever and I feel so week in my knees, she doesn't seem exhausted at all. I close my eyes as i lay my forehead onto the cold mirror and my breath covers it in moisture. The cold material feels so good and relaxing, keeping my thoughts from analyzing my burning skin sensation to deeply. I feel warm breath against my lips, as I open my eyes it's her, me? She in the mirror, I feel my hands warming up, her face ➡️
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The other M.E. (1/4)
I stood in front of the mirror, the light flickered in its neon bright white and shiny perfection, illuminating my face with coldness. My worn out view reflected onto me by this window dressed up in the silver promise of reflecting the reality, not telling that it was twisted and flipped around. The lie that was the truth. I look into my dark eyes, so dark that they looked almost black, my hated face, my nose that made me look so weird. You cold tell by my face that time wasn't kind to me. I'm tired, weary of keeping it up. My black and midnight blue hair on top of my body that had seen better days.
Covering up in saggy clothes. I look into this jaded face and meet my own look.
It's met with an unfamiliar stare, that are my eyes but it's not my look.
I see her, she looks similar to me but... she isn't me, or is she?
A smile on her face, no not a smile a spiteful grin. She is slimer than me but not skinny, her arms show muscles ➡️
#WordWeavers 01.12.2925 #TheOtherME