The mirror shows you things you don't want to see. It shows your own reflection, familiar again, and just as average as you've always thought it to be. It shows the reflection of pill bottles on the nightstand across the room. It shows the rumpled bed, the one you don't want to leave. It shows guilt around your eyes, sadness, disgust. Straight from the shower, it shows combed, wet honey hair, a towel wrapped around a body that's likely too thin, white terrycloth against white skin. White terrycloth against purple skin. The bruises on your shoulders, neck, chest, are saturated with color that isn't meant to be there. They're already deep and large, unable to be hidden. When your fingers brush over them, they're tender and the sensation makes you shiver with a memory that is as full of guilt as it is want. The want shouldn't be there. They say something is wrong with you, and you know that they're right. No one should have wanted the marks you carry now. But you did. You wanted them and everything else.
You let people down. People that were relying on you for one thing, and you threw it away in favor of the marks on your skin. And you demand more of others even now. The mirror shows you exactly what you don't want to see, the twisted, inside-out person you really are. If you had the courage, you might get rid of that reflection. But you are not worth the trouble that would cause.