you found me, I lost me.

I went to the mirror hoping pain would change me I thought if I saw how badly I was hurting, I would finally become better But when I looked closely, I don't know her "Who is she?" The face was mine but- The tears The pain But she- I couldn't recognize her fear started and I felt terrified I cried harder— not because I was broken, but because I was a stranger to myself A thought crossed my mind: "A doctor should see me." Then another voice answered: "No." "I don't deserve that kind of help." "I deserve to suffer." And suddenly, that thought bought me some unknown relief again I couldn't recognise her. the fact that somewhere along the way, I started believing my suffering was something I owed. That I had become both the bad soul and the judge passing sentence. And standing there, with ugly face and blurred eyes, I couldn't tell what hurt more— the pain I was carrying, or the fact that I couldn't recognize her.