Mirror mirror on the wall

I wish I could tell you that it all gets easier from here.  To "move on and learn," or even only to move on.  It doesn't stop though, this isn't the end of the sore raw feeling in your chest.  You were young and full of hope, I know.  Beautiful eyes and a quick smile, happy to daydream away your monochromatic life.  I know you because I am you-past present and future.  In the beginning, I was disdainful.  How could you fall for the simplest, oldest tricks in the book.  And then I look back, through the mirror of you to this:

So I'm a romantic, or supposed to be I guess.  But some days, sometimes I'm really ready to take my Austen and throw it out the window.  Setting people up to believe in simple things like "love..."  nothing simple about it.  But I know that I would plod outside, dust it off and try to put the gold-leafed pages back to order.

I'm sorry, for what it's worth.  I wonder now if I was truly saving you or if I was simply ending your fairytale sooner than it would have organically.  Write, or sing, or paint or play- I don't know what it is that you need to do to move beyond this.  But try to.

Forget what you can and bury the rest.  In a few years you can dust it off and somehow it will be a little duller and a little easier to understand.  Use your hate, use your tears, don't waste them on social media. 

You are strong.  
I am strong.
We are strong.

Promise me one thing: in two years, or five years, or ten- when you finally meet your mirror don't be too quick to laugh and dismiss her.  Try to help, try to teach, and hesitate for a moment before you jump to end their fairy tale.