My friend Kate:
Nothing you can do could ever make her smile. She keeps the same mien day-in-day-out. She looks as if she is permanently disappointed in some poor unworthy soul and she was. She hated who reflected in the mirror. It looked her up and down and laughed. She despised her- all of her, so she did all she could to make her ugly.

She tore clumps of her russet curls straight from her scalp and watched them burn in a fire. Nothing she perceived seemed beautiful to her anymore. She’d rise with swollen eyes every morning and not understand why. She then discovered that she sobbed in her sleep. There was no way to hide what was left of her gorgeous green eyes. So she colored them with black and prayed no one who says a word of it and they did not.

All she owned covered her arms. She never desired others seeing her art. Her arms were her canvas and the blade was her pencil. It was abstract art indeed. Straights swelling to and fro in every direction- some creating words spoken to her! The picture painted all in red ink or should it be now named blood.

Now when she approaches her mirror with her bare self, the reflection cries and weeps for mercy- that is when Kate grins. She has won all the battle, but her war has only just begun. This is my friend, Kate.

My friend Julie:

She only appears when expected. All of her is real and true. She smiled when it was necessary. She laughed when it was appropriate. She was gorgeous. No better way to describe, but heavenly. What flew out from her scalp were long perfectly curled strains of hair that shined a russet shine. Bright green eyes popped out of her skull and out grew long beautiful eye lashes. She was envious to the world around her.

She could wear anything and make it look amazing. She had a picture-perfect figure and could make any boy drop to their knees crying out to God, “Thank you for this angel!” She was loved by everyone around her or at least that was what she was told. There was one who despised her to the very bones. One mistake cost her that gorgeous image. She first looked at her; then, laughed and turned away like she was all high and mighty.

She never knew that she started at fire that could never be extinguished. With every compliment that screamed in her ears, it was the one insult she believed and it hissed in her ears every time she was looked at- every time Kate looked at her. This is my friend, Julie.
***

My friend true name is Julie-Kate Lemandays. She was envious by everyone around her, but she is not the person I once knew. Now I know that there were never a Julie-Kate rather than a Julie and Kate. Julie was who was seen in the mirror and Kate was who sought the image and hated it. No one thought of her ugly. She had it all, but it was never enough to her. There was something missing and it made her ugly.

Now all I see is Kate and I do not want to see Julie, but I want to see Julie-Kate. There is a girl in there somewhere that is screaming to let her out. Perfect is ugly and so is depression. There are faults in everybody because what she never seemed to believe was that perfect things are built from such broken parts. I wish that I could have told her this sooner, but it is too late.

I’m sorry, Julie-Kate. We all loved you. If only you could see what we did and you would understand that to us, you were perfect. If you knew, I bet that you put those pills down and smile again. Wake up, Julie-Kate, wake up.