All The Memories That We Made [Completed]

Reflections.

It's another Friday. Good weather. Good mood.

I wake up and smile. It's not everyday you have the 'best dream ever' right?

I don't know why, but there is something about a smile that annoys me. For one, you can always fake a smile, and Second, sometimes people smile exactly at the wrong time, which makes them look stupid. And I don't like people to think I'm stupid. Honestly, who does? So I'm not really the most smiley person.

I hum as I make my way to the bathroom, banging the door shut. Today, I take longer time in the bathroom than I really do. Blame my head, it's jammed with thoughts at the moment.

I'm not the one to dress in pink or blue dresses. I prefer darker colours. But today I wear a white dress, with pink flowers printed on it. To be honest, I end up staring at my reflections too long.

Normally, every time I do that, I see a tall girl dressed in shirts,that are in the darkest shade, wearing shoes that looks totally cool, and jeans that are either ripped jeans or blue shorts. Her frizzy hair tied up in a pony hair, a couple strands of hair loose on her face. She's serious and looks tough, but more than that, she looks like she has gone wrong. Like there is something missing.

Today, the girl in the mirror looks so different, that I have to giggle, and she does the same. Soon, we are both giggling like crazy. Me and her.

I'm not trying to be funny here, but honestly, she look like an angel. White skin, dark brown eyes. And very dark hair, that seemed to have curled on their record. Even her arms are white, and her long legs.  And she's standing barefoot. The only thing that is missing are wings.

I frown now, and so does she. No more giggling reflections. Her clothes are the same but her face looks like mine now. She's not an angel anymore. She's me.

I sigh as I make my way downstairs, taking two at a time. Mum makes me pancakes with honey on top. I don't like honey with pancakes but I don't complain. She chats with me the whole time, forgetting her own rule about not eating with your mouth full. I nod my head every time she says something, answering every question of hers with a plain yes or no.

I hate myself for doing it but my mind is overflowing with thoughts, blinding me with an emptiness that I can't explain. I almost choke on my second pancake. And then I realize that I can't eat anymore. I tell my mum and she frowns.

'Just a couple more bites?'

I shake my head, 'Sorry mum, but I feel sick'.

She lets me get up, a soft expression on her beautiful face.

I'm always told that my mum is gorgeous, and I agree, she is. Her eyes are brown but in a light shade, so unlike mine. Her long hair are dark and curly but with no frizz. She has red lips. Gorgeous white skin. Pink rosy cheeks.

Honestly, she looks like someone who belongs in a fairy tale where a prince falls for her and they get married and live happily ever after.

My dad was not a prince. He was just another men like any other. My mother didn't had a happily ever after with him. He died.

He left her with a one years old baby girl who would wail, screaming 'Daddy' even though she didn't knew what a 'daddy' was.

I've been told that I look like my Dad. That he was moody as well, but sweet.

I used to be sweet. I was a lot more than I am right now. What am I right now? Nothing. I am nothing.

I pick up my shoes and force my foot into them. They fit, just. All the time, she is staring at me, a dreamy expression on her face, smiling. All of a sudden, I want to run into her arms, tell her that I love her and eat all the pancakes she have made.

I don't. Instead I mumble a goodbye and bang the door on my way out.