The Broken Mirror

Dear Delyara, For years, I looked into a mirror that wasn't mine. I saw myself through the eyes of someone who wanted to keep me small, someone who used their words like a hammer to break my spirit. I forgot what my own face looked like without the shadow of fear over it. Tonight, I am reclaiming my reflection. I wrote down the most painful memories—the ones that keep me awake at 3:00 AM—and I watched the ink turn them into something I can finally look at without trembling. I am not "broken" anymore; I am a mosaic. Every crack in my soul is being filled with the gold of my own survival. I am leaving the hammer here. I am taking the light with me.