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Transitioning
I look at the dust covered mirror hanging in my room. I ask myself, what do you see? I see a blonde girl that is exactly like me, but something is different. I continue to gaze at this blurry reflection of myself and try to find what is different, what has changed. I start to say things that may be the change, but my head denies it all the same. I grew an inch? No, that’s not it. You grow an inch every year. I lost a few pounds? No, you’re still over a hundred pounds. My hair is a little longer? Nope, it’s still short. I don’t have as many bruises and cuts as I did a month ago? No, and you still have the scars that will probably always be there. After wondering for a few minutes, I finally realized I was only looking outside for changes not inside. So now, I’m looking in the dusty mirror looking for changes that have happened on the inside. I’m not constantly thinking about the drama that makes me want to pull my hair out or dying or that boy who screwed me over? Yes, you finally are thinking about yourself instead of letting others walk all over you. I’m smiling? Yes, that’s called happiness. And my heart? How’s your heart? It was shattered …the pieces are broken, but they are intact? Yes, your heart was demolished, but the pieces were mended back together. How? Through your friends and family came happiness, and through happiness you started to forget all the bad and dark times, and by forgetting you started to become someone, and by becoming that someone brought back everything that makes you…you. But who am I? You are a young, scared little girl who just became a strong, independent woman.
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