I don’t own a mirror. Ive always been too frightened to look—scared of the returning glance. I remember the last time i saw one. The picture was rather bleak—nothing to be desired. The after math of the viewing left me soley numb. Completley different compared to the first time i saw myself in one. All i can remember about that time was the pee trinkling down my leg and me crying, begging my friends to unlock the door—it was supposed to be a harmless joke, except it wasn’t, at least not for me. Monsters are nothing to joke about and everytime i look into a mirror i am reminded of such truth. All my life my parents have tried the it best to look into this strange matter. Grandma—before her death, stated there to be a curse—some generations here and there and somehow i was next in line. She told us how those with the unfortunate luck of carrying this tradition never suffered long. I guess you wouldnt have to considering you died at sixteen years of age. The demon in the mirror, a twisted versión of yourself preparing to replace you on the sixteenth year sounds fictious and for poor souls like myself, i wish this were true. Although its not so bad knowing one’s fate in this position. With it you try making every moment count— with friends, lovers, family—even enemies. I don’t worry about those who would pray on my down fall when my greatest enemy is and will inevitablly be myself. One day, overwheñmed with all the knowledge of what my final moments would entail, i thought about ending it all there. I thought—well I’m gonna die anyway, why not get it over with. My mom dropes me before i could. She told me that we all will die one day, but the true thing that matters isnt the ending of the story, rather the journey or journeys you make before then. I never tried again. I was never given the freedom to journey unknowingly. Today is the set day, my death. However, ive garnered a plan, hence my parents confusion of my newfound excitement early this morning. I figured theres no reason to complain about the truth and how i see it there are three. The first is that on the sixteenth year of my birth the monster in the mirror will emerge from it’s glassy depths and i am supposed to die that day. The second is that although we all have to die some day, we should t dwell on such events for that results in a life not worth living. The third and most important fact: my dad used to play baseball back in high school and he just so happens to have one his bats hold up in his closet. I figure it to be rude not to greet a person with a gift on their birthday— to show you truly care