Warning: Self Harm, dysphoria, self-hatred. 

A/N: There is an alternate ending if you don't want to read the self harm.

I put on my beret and stand in front of the mirror, when I set out my outfit yesterday it looked like it would be really pretty on me. I look through the mirror you look too chunky, I look at my outfit again; yes the shirt was tighter then what I usually wear, but it felt good to show the little curves I have. Your far to flat. You won't pass even for a second I look down again, yes im a bit flat, but others are flat as well, it shouldn't have to much of an effect. Look at your jaw line. It's too sharp! And your nose its not soft enough. I feel the feelings creep up my throat and my whole body tense up.

I woke up feeling not to bad this morning, I was planning on going to a cafe with my significant other today, and I wanted to impress them. Sir? Sir? Thats what they'll say at the cafe today. You'll confuse them to much. They'll gossip about you after you leave, I look down at the skirt and heels and feel the disgust towards myself dripping down my spine. Look at your hands! Look how veiny they are, look at your nails and how stubby they are. You really think people will respect you with pink nail polish on? I stare at my hands. I normally loved the color, it was from the first polish I got. Im not sure where the voice is coming from. The mirror. My self. No clue. 

I try to think what my therapist told me. I look in the mirror "I- I am beauti-beautiful. I will- I will pass today. My-my-my-my boyfriend- my boyfriend- he loves me. He says Im the - im the most beautiful girl-girl he's ever seen" I feel the tears start to trickle down my cheeks, making a run through my delicately placed rouge, the black from my smudged mascara making an outline of the tears path. I look like a painting an ugly painting! A painting of a man! My knees are shaking. My arm moves on its own accord. I grab my phone from the bed and go to the contact of my boyfriend, I look at the picture of him kissing my cheek, it was the day I went and got my nails done last month. I look so happy, my hair was growing out. I hover over the call button. My finger hesitating, but then I tap it. He picks up after three rings.

"Hey baby"

"Hi" I say, trying to keep my voice stable

"Whats up?"

"I can't make it to lunch today" I manage to say without my voice cracking

"Why? I was looking forward to it" I could almost hear the pout in his voice, it made me feel even worse.

"My mom called- she um- she wants me to babysit my little brother today- yeah." I say, only slipping up a few times. "Sorry, I haven't had coffee today, my thoughts are slipping, hahaha" I say trying to explain the slip ups. I kick my heels off wimp

"Oh - okay. You sure?" he questions, I don't want him to know about whats going on. He hates it when Im sad, and I don't want to disappoint him.

"Yeah, sorry baby, maybe tomorrow?" I know that tomorrow I probably won't feel better, but I needed to say something to complete my lie.

"Sound good, love you" he said, sounding skeptical and sad

"Love you -love you too" i quickly cut the call, after I slipped up. I pull the skirt off and throw it across the room. Good job, it looked terrible on you anyway. You would have looked like a fool today, I pull off the sparkly blouse I have on, and throw it in the same direction of the skirt. I go to the bathroom, where I try to wash the makeup off. I look up again. Well well well, look at you. Don't you feel even worse know. At least you didn't have to deal with the embarrassment of being called Sir. You look way to masculine to be called Ma'am. Aren't I right? Yeah I am.  I stare at myself in the mirror, seeing the smudges that are still around my eyes and down my cheeks. 

Today was going to be good day, I was looking forward to it. I was feeling so good about today. Thats why I made the plans yesterday, I usually don't feel that confident but I was yesterday, my boyfriend was so happy that I was feeling better. That makes me feel even worse, he was so happy for me, and im ruining that now. 

Self harm warning; you can skip and read alternate ending if you want:

I feel the bile creeping up my throat. I stare at the mirror even more, but this time for a different reason. My mirror doubled as a cabinet, I stare at the mirror as if I can see trough the mirror and the wood that made the doors of the cabinet. I imagine the packet of replacement blades that are sitting on one of the shelf's. I feel my arms, thighs, and chest tingle. Begging me to drag the blade across my skin, to feel the sting through my body. I turn to the toilet and look at how inviting it looks, how easily I would be able to sit down and graze my thigh with the sharpness. I bring my hand up to push the hair that has fallen into my face, I pause and look at my wrist through the mirror. I look at my flat chest, I look at the utter lack of curve and bust. You know you want to, come on. The cut can form some curve, you can be in control. I don't have an argument against what is said. I bring my hand up to grasp at the door of the cabinet. I open it, and look for the pack of replacement blades. I can't find them, I start to hyperventilate. 

Where did they go? why can't I find them? I start to pull out all the things in there. My stupid floral deodorant. my stupid nail polish. My stupid estrogen. My stupid medications. My stupid medications. Thats it. I grab a bottle, any bottle, and try to open it. My hands are shaking, making it hard to open the container. I get the container open. I start to tilt my head back, I open my mouth and start to empty the contents into my mouth. I start to sob even more when only 3 pills fall into my mouth. I swallow them all, it doesn't matter, it all doesn't matter. I look up down again, and look at the bottle. Its fucking baby aspirin. It won't do anything, won't make any difference. I stand up and look at the mirror again. I throw more things out of the cabinet, still looking for my damn blades. I feel like Im spiraling. I know I should stop, it won't do me any good to hurt myself. But im too far gone to care about the effects. This all started with a stupid mirror, and know I want to end it all, funny how our minds work. Funny how all of that led to this. But I still don't care, I look through the cabinet throwing everything out, then I find the package of the blades. It was on the top shelf hiding behind a jar of cotton balls. I don't know how it got there but I don't care, I open the container to find them all gone. Instead I find a note written by my boyfriend.' It's for your own good Baby' I start to get mad, mad at everything, at him, at myself, at that stupid baby aspirin. I fall on the floor again. I just wanted to be in control. I grab at one of the bottles again, weakly looking at the label. ibuprofen, 800 mg, from when I broke my arm. I can see through the bottle, and see at least half of the pills in it. I inwardly smirk to myself. I open the bottle first try this time, I throw my head back and open my mouth. Pouring the 50 odd pills in my mouth. I close my eyes

"You better not be planning on swallowing those. Spit them out right now!" I hear my boyfriends voice.

I shake my head, and close my mouth. He comes over to me and forces my mouth open, seeing half of the pills gone. He makes me spit out the remainders of my decision, and then he hesitates trying to figure out what to do next. He then sticks two fingers down my throat, making my gag, and throw up my stomachs content. I look up at him, and start banging on his chest. "Why?" I let out in a raspy voice. He kisses my forehead and then picks me up. Running to the car, where he drives us to the hospital, Im straining against the seat belt with the little strength I have. I look down and then I black out.

I wake up in a hospital bed, an IV connected to my arm and my boyfriend, with his head leaning against my thigh holding my hand. He looks up when he feels my hand move. 

"Thank god your all right, what happened?" He asks in a calm voice. I go to open my mouth,but I couldn't speak my throat was too sore. "You don't need to speak, i have an idea. Is it the stupid mirror, and the stupid fucking dysphoria?" Tears come to my eyes as I nod weakly. He grabs my hand and kisses each knuckle. "Im so sorry baby, I should have pushed further, I should have come earlier, I should have known you were in pain, I should have already been on my way to your house when you cancelled, I should have-" I cut him off by squeezing his hands. He stares into my eyes. "Im so sorry baby girl" he has tears in his eyes I shake my head and attempt to speak again.

"Its not you fault" I say, he looks at me even more. I squeeze his hand again, and he squeezes it back. "How did you-how did you know?" I ask, the thought came to my mind. 

"I called your mom to ask about what you said, because I had a bad feeling. She said she didn't say anything of the sort. I then started driving to your house. I was so worried about you baby. Please don't ever do that again" I nod and he kisses my knuckles again. 

Alternate Ending

I go over to my bed and curl into a ball. I hear the door unlock and someone come up the stairs. My boyfriend walks into the room. First thing he does is walk over to me and sit down in font of me. He looks around.

"Why are you pretty clothes all over the floor, beautiful?"

"Not beautiful" I say, I don't have the energy to come up with another lie.

"Is the mirror being mean again?" I nod