When preparing for battle I awake and put my armor on. The armor changes every day depending on what that day brings. Sometimes I wear brilliant shimmering silver plates meant to protect and other days there is only a pair of black sweat pants and one of my dad's old t-shirts.

I say it's a war but there are no armies meeting against each other, no there are only two. The one with her mouth sealed shut, purple bags under her eyes that are permanently red from the constant stream of tears that runs down her face, hair that's always dragging along her face weighed down by the sweat and grease coating it but it is the air around her that bothers me.

When you get close you'll feel that stifling air as if it's a pool she swims in. It brings about the sense of an everlasting melancholy. It takes everything in me to not turn around and run as far and fast as I can. However, I know what the consequences will be if I do indeed give in to my fear.

So I keep putting one foot in front of the other. Preparing to reach that miserable thing that stands there as if waiting for me to run away as well. As I keep on moving taking hours to make the littlest of distance she begins her attack. The mouth once shut is now a gaping black hole that screams words like knives. Those tears turn to red as her blood begins spilling from the wounds her words make.

Although I also feel the stinging pain of the words she throws I keep moving ignoring the pain that comes. The words keep getting fiercer and the temperature drops to the point that I'm shaking in my clothing. The distance feels like miles but I know if I can just reach her everything would stop. That peace would return.

So on and on I walk with my arms outstretched ready to welcome that girl into the arms of peace but before I get there I run into something. It's see through and makes no sense as to how it could possibly be here in the middle of this battlefield so I push against it and as I push I see the girl pushing too. I start banging on it and so does she. When that doesn't work I stop and simply stare at her.

A sharp gust of breath leaves me as realization dawns on me. I bring my hand hesitantly up to my face and see her do the same. Touching my hair that is weighing down with grease I begin to cry as I see her do the same.

The girl is me and the wall is a mirror. The damage I have inflicted on this battlefield is all my own doing. I am left with the shell of what I have become but there is hope. Hope for the world of peace that I wished for the girl, for me.