Mirror Image
Staring in the mirror, I see a young face staring back at me. A girl of 12 or 13 meets my eyes. Immediately I think of her as innocent and naïve, but those large brown eyes show something else. They look the eyes of someone who has been hurt and therefore hardened, a sad child with no explanation. From the truth-speaking eyes extend long, dark eyelashes that many times had been mistaken as mascara in their natural state. Dark brown brows reside above them with a slight arc similar to the shape of her eye. An average nose protrudes from between the eyes, the end well-rounded. Fat, rosy lips form a frown on her child-like face. The lips seem almost too dark to belong on the pale face. Light freckles dot her cheeks, so light they almost seemed to blend in with the rest of her. Dark lines sink below her eyes, a vein God had placed too close to the surface. Her round chin contains a slight tint of red that never seemed to go away. Two tiny ears rested on the sides of her head, placed evenly with her eyes. Tasseled hair, reminding of a muddy trail, took its path over her ear to where it had been quickly pulled back out of the way in a moment of bothersomeness. I looked at the whole again. She was such a plain girl. Her face showed no signs of happiness, just a look of hard times past. What a pathetic life this girl must have. I am glad I am not her.