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The man in the mirror
Guilty for the cards I was dealt. The gavel seals the deal. “Thump”. I look at my dad. The empty look on his face will haunt me forever. All these thoughts. It started out small but the snowball kept on rolling. From mouthing off to my mother to this. Why did I stop going to school? Why not dump the pipe? It wasn’t even mine. I did it all for attention, but it was too late to say that. Right then the sheriff grabs my arm and escorts me out. “I’ll call”, is all I had time to say. It almost didn’t seem real; I was numb. As I got booked, I was eerily silent. The clothes were tattered and a faded blue color, along with bright orange sandals. All the thoughts in my mind, wondering who and what awaits me on the other side. “This way”, the guard says. I follow down the hallway. They are divided into sections I was told, hoping I got solitary, but we kept walking. I will never forget the looks on the faces of the institutionalized. I carried my mattress, a blanket, and shower stuff into the section. A loud buzz and click, one of the doors popped open. I look around. The cracked wall, once new white paint, now peels off like dry skin. There was a mirror, scratched and tagged like a public bathroom. I couldn't see my own reflection, making it more difficult to face the man in the mirror.
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