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November 4, 2006
Everything has shifted. Tired eyes that no longer care to see are staring back at me through the cracks in the mirror. The blood on the glass is too transparent to hide the symptoms of life on my face. Dried blood flakes from my throbbing fingers, and I wonder if I struck it from frustration with futility or fear of the facts. Either way, it makes a statement about what is eating away at me. It will remind me in the coming days that these eyes still see, and they will see everything I could want to hide from them.