Is that me? I walked up to the mirror and stared at myself. I was dressed nice and had bright blue eyes. My long blonde hair lay on my head like a king. A lady walked in and said “How do you look? You like what I’ve done?” I looked around and stared at the red walls. I was trapped in a red box with a lady. Then the scenery shattered and went to a beach layout. I glanced at the water seeing my wife. I ran, screaming and shouting “Get out of the water NOW COME OUT, NOW!” She turned around and there before my eyes the worst memory of my life flashed before my eyes. The giant beast flipped out of the water splashing and wiggling. The great white snatched her under the dark blue water. She was dead again I thought.

“NO!” I screamed and shot out of my mattress. My breath sounded like a tornado washing away a town. It was all a dream, nothing to worry about. I stood in front of the mirror looking at my torn up cloths and felt hopeless. I was a torn up, piece of junk. I couldn’t watch myself any longer. I didn’t know what to do anymore. I’m ugly and no one wants me. Why did she have to die? As I walked to work I stopped and noticed all of the people without homes. Then I felt a lot better. I’m not the only one needing help. I kept walking and got to the hot dog stand and put an open sign on the front of my stand. Like always I didn’t get much business.

People walk up and hate my food. It’s like it’s not food or something. As I walked back to my house I saw my wife. She was standing there in front of the alley. She was nearly 10 ft from me. I walked up to her. My hand reached out as if she was going to break if I did touch her. My hand slid across her face. Her smooth cheek felt so soft under my hand. Then she washed away and I lost control. I always know she’s fake, but I still try and touch her. I tried to push her out of my mind, but she remained in there. Every day I lay in my bed a little longer before getting up thinking that she’s right beside me sleeping safe and sound.

“I can’t take it anymore.”I shouted. I ran home grabbed a knife and stood it over my chest. I stood in my pig sty of a house. I didn’t want to live anymore. It was too much to think about every day. I didn’t want to have all the images in my head that I had in there. I focused on my heart and thrust the knife towards my broken heart. I fell to the ground and whispered “I’m coming.”I just couldn’t take it.