I took a portal to another world. It was hidden in my mirror.

It's the same as mine, but yet different.

I found myself, we were the same, but different.

We looked the same. We talked the same. We had the same experiences. 

Yet she was darker than me.

She did not tell our mother about the night in Arkansas.

She had not wrote that note, she had gone for the knife instead.

Her help was in failed counseling and drugs. 

She did not have the same interests as I did. 

She left her flute in the closet, it had grown mold in the casing.

She did not get the part in the play, she said she had lost interest.

She never became friends with the drum major, then grew to realize that maybe he wasn't the best of people.

She never found love.

Like I did.

Her hair was matted and she smelled of weed and alcohol. The same as our father.

I took her by the hand, and held it close. I whispered to her.

"It gets better."

I came out of the portal, back to my own mind and body. I was crying, because I realized. We were the same, in so many ways. She was the embodiment of my negative emotions, played out in her own world. 

I wish I could've helped her, helped me.

But in my world, I'm finally happy, I've healed. 

I left her world behind.

I only wish that she could leave hers behind as well.

When he becomes drunk, and his breath smells of liquor, stay in that house. When he screams and curses your name, he hits the wife, and is dragged to his car, stay in that house. 

Breathe, you'll survive.

When you think you found love, do not be afraid. It will feel amazing at first, but soon you'll realize that it was just a game. Those tears shed pillows were not there for nothing, use them. 

Breathe, you'll love again.

When you first realize that you are not okay, and that the color has seemed to faded away from your life, tell mom. She's there to help you, and hold you. You will write a note, a poem of a mind that is not your fault.

Breathe, you'll get help.

Breathe.