I am angry. You can tell from the look in my brown eyes. I look straight at myself in my dirty, dusty mirror. My eyebrows are slanted, curving into my forehead. There are various wrinkles within my upper, scarred face. My mouth is just a straight line, but is very flat. My hands grip down onto the white messy counter that the mirror is sitting on. My hands hurt, but I do not care right now. I am angry.
I am sad. I look into the mirror even closer, inching slowly. I notice my face getting hot, and my eyes are staring to water. I try to hold back the tears, but they come out anyway. I look like a broken mess. I lift a hand up to brush my thick, brunette hair out of my wet eyes. My dry hands rub against my soft, skinny face. Snot runs out of my nose. I am sad.
I am happy. My hair flows with me as I reach down into the drawer and grab a bottle of pills. I think these will work just fine. I rub my thumb over the label. “Only take two a day” Is what the bottle read.