I keep looking into the mirror, but I can't fully comprehend what my eyes are actually seeing. The woman behind the glass has black hair. Her beautiful blue eyes watch me suspiciously, like they're trying to decide whether or not I'm a threat. Her fair complexion makes her look fragile, almost sick, together with the black hair. She isn't made to look this dark and seeing it makes me hurt inside.
I tear my gaze away and look out through the window. The sun is shining outside and I can hear the happy voices from the children playing on the street below. Somewhere I can hear music playing and someone screaming along to a game.
Slowly I turn my head back to the mirror. She is still there. Still looking breakable. Still looking different. Without thinking about it I move my hand up to touch her black hair. Her movement mimics mine.
What the hell was I thinking?! I'm almost yelling at myself now. The black dye had been an impulse-thing. The thought had never really occured to me and then all of a sudden I find myself staring at a black-haired woman in the mirror. Of all the freaking colours of the rainbow - you had to go with black! I will never be able to wear black again without looking like one of the emo-kids. It's not that I don't like other colours, it's just that black is classic. Time-less. Besides, it brings so much more attention to my face - or well, at least it used to. I have no idea what it will be like now. Maybe people will think I'm on my way to a funeral and decide not to talk to me because I might burst into tears at any time. Oh God, I hope not.
I walk into the bathroom to adjust my make-up, but no matter how much I try I just can't seem to get it right. Applying less lip-gloss won't work and trying another shade of eye-shadow besides my usual beige is like a child painting on the wall. It looks good, in a weird way, but you know it shouldn't be there. Then again, I'm thinking to myself, neither should the black hair. I'm pulling myself away from my reflection and forcing myself to look for proper clothes to wear. Skirts, dresses, tank-tops, jeans, sweaters... Everything is lying in a complete mess on my floor. My eyes notice something pink somewhere in the middle of one of the piles and I try to snatch it away quickly so I don't make an even bigger mess. Of course I fail and now I can't even walk anywhere without having to trample on clothes. Great. As if I'm not late enough already. I sigh to myself. Just great. I shake my head to clear my thoughts and look at the pink piece of clothing I'm holding. Turns out it's one of my favourite t-shirts so I put it on while I dive for the new pair of pale black slim-fit jeans that I know should be here somewhere. The thought about not making more of a mess than I already have is long gone. I stir pile after pile trying to locate the jeans, but I can't seem to find them anywhere. Just when I'm about to give up and settle for a black skirt I see the jeans lying neatly folded at the top of my dresser. I quickly pull them on and rush for the door - only stopping briefly to pick my bag up from the floor and putting on a pair of shoes. A quick glance at the watch on my mobile-phone tells me that I really don't even have time to stand here and look at them so I force my feet into a pair of brown leather-boots and cringe my arms into my striped jacket. Perfect. University, here I come.
No comments:
Post a Comment