7

When Acceptance Arrived

PERFECTION

I run into a room, its walls are polished silver. I stare at the hideous creature, it stares back. I raise my left hand. It raises its wizened bloodstained paw in turn.
My screams fill the air.
This is not what I am.
This is what I have become.
Voices in my head, warring and destroying.
Room after room I run into, searching for something pleasant. Room after room I run out of, more scarred than before.

I crumble into a heap when I reach the end of the hallway, destroyed. It takes me years to close my eyes and look inside. It takes me centuries to quiet the voices in my head. It takes me a millennium to untangle the vines and find the pure red rose within.

And I rise. I open my eyes and find the last mirror. Time stands before me, and shows me the remnants of mystic beauty, wrinkled by the lines of age. I raise my wizened left hand and place it on my chest.

My heart beats and I am alive and I am perfect.

 

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