(Credit: Goodreads.com/author_blog_posts, Donna Pyle)
My knuckles bleed from breaking mirrors. Shards are digging through my soles and through my soul. Still, it would have been worth it, if the mirrors would stop looking at me, stop showing me dreams twisted into nightmares. I thought it was working for a while, I thought I could destroy them like this, but then I realised
that every time I break a mirror,
I am only making more mirrors.
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