Peek-A-Boo

    People look at me. People watch me. They think they see me, know me. But they don't. It's her they see. That other girl. She looks and sounds just like me. People always confuse us. Even I see her most of the time. In the mirror. In pictures. I see the glimmer in her eyes.
    I love her. I love everything she helps me do.
    I hate her. I hate her. I can't stand the girl I see.
    I hate what she is able to do that I can't. She laughs. She smiles. She never seems to feel the pain, the hurt, I do.
    People never see the real me. The Bella that she's hiding. The don't see the tears, don't hear the screaming, pleading, cries for help. How can they? Why look past the happy shell you see? But I'm there underneath her. Hoping. Waiting. Praying someone will look close enough to really see me. Not the Mariposa everyone seems to.
    Even I have trouble. When I look in the mirror and smile, she smiles for me. If I glance quickly, I can see myself. But only a glance. Peek-a-boo, I see you. Whoops!! Where'd you go? I can't find you. I'm lost. I'm lost...
    Does anyone miss me? Do you even know I'm gone? Was I ever really there?