Mirror of Erised

If I were to stumble upon the Mirror of Erised, I would honestly get freaked out. When I look into a mirror, I expect to see my mousy hair and too-pale face looking back at me, not my fragile heart's desire. So, as I said, I would be freaked out at first. And then I would take a step back and reminisce about the old days when I went through my Harry Potter phase and avidly read their magic words. I, by no means dull, would eventually determine that this is, indeed, the mirror of Erised. Then, making sure that there is nobody else to intrude upon the secrets of my soul, I would gaze intently at the scene in the ancient glass.

I'm one of those people that finds it hard to handle emotions. It isn't that I ignore them or anything, but I just feel them too deeply and get prone to deep depressions and extreme joy, usually ending in bad feelings. So what I see in the mirror doesn't sit well in my worn-down stomach. Actually, I feel a bit of indigestion.

There, in the mirror's glassy contents, I am standing, once more a carefree four-year-old. Instead of dark eyeliner around my big eyes, there is nothing. There are no dark bags under my eyes, just the bright hopes of a little girl who has yet to be truly hurt. I'm wearing a pair of overalls, an old favorite, with strapped Velcro sneakers and my hair worn in braids. Beside me is my brother, not yet fat and not yet angry and not yet different. We're next to a swingset with our dog at our feet, panting placidly and following a horsefly with his cute, dark eyes. Mom is nearby, without her usual cigarette, talking and laughing with Dad. Dad is fatter and happier and without as many tattoos. In the mirror, there is only a sweet suburban scene. In it is something I haven't seen for years, except in my overwhelming memories.

I would take a step back from the mirror and try to rush to my room. But everything would remind me of my wishes unfulfilled, from my soon-to-be-stepdad jabbering about the stock market on his iPhone to the legal papers with words like "divorce" and "infidelity". I would run to my room and try not to cry, maybe send a ranty email to a friend.

The truth is, I don't want to find the Mirror of Erised. Dumbledore once said that it could drive a man mad, and I'm sure it could do so for angsty teen girl, too. There is a reason this artifact is keepen hidden.