The Looking Glass

         My best friend is imprisoned in the looking glass; she has been for as long as I can remember. She is there every time I have a bad day, she is beautiful, she is everything I am not, yet she seems to know in some innate way what I have gone through that day, something in her eyes illustrates that she knows. I do not know why she continues to grace me with her presence; I certainly have done nothing to deserve it.
         Lately, her eyes have appeared haunted as if some unseen terror has besieged her. I do not know why a terror should go to her; I certainly deserve it more than she. I am not quite sure how to describe myself to you; some tell me I am pretty, some tell me I am ugly. I certainly have more faith with the latter. Hell, one should believe their parents, shouldn’t they?
         My friend seems to be losing weight, I think about asking her if she has been eating, especially since I have not, not since last week when some boy helpfully pointed out how I looked like I could lose about fifteen pounds, and then I might look good. My friend looks like she is getting dangerously thin, though. I think about telling her that, but she is stubborn like me and probably will not answer. She also looks unusually desolate, which is odd, because normally she looks happy, though whether that is truthful or simply a façade, I know not.
         I have always dreamed about having a sister, although I really do not think any more that that would be a good thing, for what if my sister someday met my friend? I would not be able to bear having to share her. She is my jealously guarded secret.
         I think perhaps I feel so connected to her because if you look extremely hard you can detect some similarities between myself and she; same amber colored hair, same blue eyes, but there the similarities end….she is beautiful, and I, ugly. She most often appears to possess great self confidence, while I have such low self esteem that it must be apparent to all but the most oblivious of observers. Apparently, the few friends I have on this side of the looking glass fall into this category, or they simply do not care about me. I prefer to think the former, but as of late, my mind has been turning inexorably to the latter. When I brought up the topic, they looked at me as if I was some abnormality not of this planet, therefore not worth their precious time, then laughed asking where I got that crazy idea, but not before I saw a brief flicker of unease pass through their eyes. Perhaps I am just paranoid? I think not, I believe they truly are against me.