#gbsv!

Alexandria is not a happy woman. She's not perfect. She's far from it. All she's ever known are her flaws. Except recently maybe she's been trying to convince herself there's more than the flaws she sees every time she looks in the mirror. She sees stringy hair and sunken eyes. She sees a desperate addict trying to cling to something worth while. She sees pain. She sees a codependent who's not trying hard enough to earn her independence.

She's looking in the mirror right now, a cigarette dangling from her lips and her long brown hair still damp from the shower she just took. She still sees all those things. All those things and a ball of frustration she doesn't know how to deal with.

Smoke permeates the tiny bathroom, ruining the fresh scent of mint from her bathsoap. She tries for a smile. Fails. Her lips seem to be perfectly affixed in their grimace. And she feels like it will be there forever more. And with that thought she punches herself in the face.

The glass of the mirror breaks under the pressure, sharp edges cutting into her skin, "Fuck!"

Alexandria needs love. And not the hallow sort that comes from sleeping with someone just because their hips curve the right way or because they have a voice like smoke. Alexandria needs the love of someone who can show her that she's worth her while. She needs someone who won't let her fade into the background. She needs someone to love her like the sun loves the earth and the moon loves the sky and stars. She needs someone to love her like they've never loved before, as though she's the only one they'll ever love. She needs someone to love her as though they're dying and every moment could be their last.

 She knows that's unrealistic. She knows it's not likely to happen. She knows it's not going to happen with her Jaqueline in the forseeable future, as much as she wishes that fantasy could be a reality. 

Alexandria knows she's damaged. She knows she's dirty. She hums as she cleans the glass from her cuts, cool water stinging her and streaking the sink red. One single tear breaks free from her stoic expression, but she wipes it away before anyone might see, leaving only a red streak from the blood on her palm.