I stared at the reflection in the mirror.
A round face glared back at me, adorned with a prominent chin, tear stained cheeks, large, sunken in eyes and pale skin.
The nose was slightly larger than average, and the eyebrows were arched and unmade.
This was my face. I was looking at myself. My pathetic, sad, sad self.
I glanced at my hands and noticed the chipped off nail polish topping my slim fingers with a slight inner nod. Completely fitting that the polish should be chipped.
My decisions, and non existent options stretched out in front of me, like a dusty old crinkled map.
So many tiny lines going off in so many different directions. Overlapping and crossing and getting jumbled and tangled into one another.
Tracing them, trying to see where it all led to did me no good. I had to pick one, but the most attractive was ironically the most messy. Choosing it would mean uncertainty beyond my wildest imaginations.
I could be on the stairway to heaven, or walking down the highway to hell, I wouldn't know until I was close to the destination.
But boy was it tempting. The roses alongside it grew lush and red, with seemingly no thorns and a heavy overwhelming scent.
Only when you plucked one did it prick your finger, and then the bleeding would start.
And you would find out that the graze was actually a cut.
It was, however, all in your mind.
You could easily ignore the pricked finger, and the tiny scratch would dissappear into nothing, but that would also be the most difficult thing you would do.
You had to choose your own happiness on this path, and make hell your heaven.
But that was the easiest and most difficult thing to do.
And I was not sure I could do it.
