#lance's log

I reflect your traits, your face, and your thoughts back at you. I used to enjoy it.

Used to take pride in how I reflect you flawlessly, that every detail is etched into the glass and how I show them back accurately.

Now? Not so much.

I realized that your reflection isn't something to take pride in. It's horrid.

I may not be cracked, but I can see the spots that are. I see how your details distort, and how they can reveal the darkness inside. I can feel how you emanate decay, how your "pride" is a hollow, rotting facsimile of confidence and heart.

Do you even have a heart? I'm not so sure anymore.

As I realize this, I also realize in turn that I hate being your mirror.

I crack, I break. I let the pieces fall to the ground, and there's not much left. You pick up the broken-off pieces and throw them out.

I realized that I have plenty of ideas, but not a space for them. Not to mention, I refuse to use any of the spaces provided, as most of it is likely original and semi-original writings that I feel shy about posting.

So, here we are!