I wake up and try to remember the events of the night before. The last thing I remember was the lights of the club and dancing with some guy, Steve or Stephan, something that starts with an S. I sit up and survey my surroundings. Musty old motel room with a sharp pungent smell, probably mold in the bathroom, defiantly the last place I would have thought I would wake up. Me, a straight A college student majoring in Law at Harvard, this was so not my scene. I push the moth-eaten comforter off me and walk into the bathroom. I splash the water that splashes out of the faucet onto my face and look in the mirror in front of me. Scattered with scratched in graffiti, I look past it at my reflection.
What I see is not the blonde hair blue eyed beauty everyone told me I was all through High School. No, what I see is a scared young woman. Her beautiful blue eyes look empty and hallow. Her beautiful blonde hair has thinned and fallen out in some places leaving patches of skin here and there. Her lips, which used to be plump and pink, are now a dull white as if she has been sucking them in. Her face looks almost lifeless. I look away, scared of the image.
When I look back, the girl is gone. I see my beautiful reflection and touch my fingers to the glass. I let go of my breath, unaware I was holding it. I walk out of the motel room and into the fresh air of Los Angles. I make a vow to myself and to the girl in the mirror. I will never let myself go down the road I was headed. I will hold my head high and hope for the best.
