The mirror mocks him, as it often does when it catches his eyes. Never failing to point out the insecurities that litter his mind.

It was simple, for him, to become engulfed in a staring match with the mirror looking for anything that could bring him a sliver of confidence. Yet, he never seemed to win that battle in his mind. The curly, untamable mop of blonde that he called hair failed to ever sit in a style that fit him. His eyebrows, while not bushy, were equally as unruly sticking in different directions teasing him as he tried to place them in a neat matter, only for them to resume their previous position. His nose sat in the middle of face, upturned and too small for the rounded shape of the rest of his face. His thin lips, scabbed from the constant neurotic chewing. Those things, however, were never his main focus when the mirror taunted him. No, those insecurities didn't mean too much to the thin boy.

The empty void that sat within the pale green color of his eyes is what brought Tweek Tweak the most sorrow. He often found himself staring into his own eyes, looking for something, anything that resembled feeling. People say that eyes are the window to the soul, so did that mean his soul was barren?

It certainly felt as if it was.

A knock on the bathroom pulled him from his trance, a twitch overtaking him. Another thing he hated about himself. "Tweek? Sweetie? Are you alright in there? You've been in there a while." His mother's voice was soft, kind. A falsification of who she truly was.

"Y-yeah. I'm fine." He answered, fingernails into his palms. "I'll be out shortly."

It wasn't until he heard her footsteps fade that he returned his gaze into the looking glass. It had been years since the worst of it. Or at least years since he felt anything other than nothingness, or overwhelming anxieties. Even when those anxieties came forth he was much better at hiding them than he once was.

Before there was random yelps and cries followed by an uncontrollable twitch, and a constant stutter. Now, 5 years later, the twitch only happened when startled, and his stutter scarce.

Tweek was, to say the least, a broken void of who he once was. It was when he turned 12 that his all of his previous issues came crashing down on him. The paranoia, anxiety, ADHD, and lack of sleep caught up with him one day at school. It was simple misunderstanding, or at least that's what Tweek was told when he woke up in the hospital. Something about a kid bumping into him and knocking his books down. His parents told him that he just started to panic. Why? He couldn't recall, but it was enough for him to start hyperventilating, and faint.

After that he was put in therapy. With therapy came medications, and with medications came the dullness that soon became his best friend, and worst nightmare.

Taking a deep breath he pulled the mirror open tearing away his gaze into his own lifeless eyes with a simple swing. Reaching in he grabbed three pill bottles. Spinning each one on his hand before setting it down on the sink. 'How many times...' he thought to himself, a small, joyless chuckle escaping his lips. The thought of the pills that were meant to fix him taking his life ran across his mind each day when he pulled them out. An ironic end to a sad life.

Closing the mirror he resumed staring at himself. Shaking the gruesome thought from his head. Tweek knew he didn't have it in him. Besides, they (whoever they was), promised that one day, life would get better. If anything, he at least wanted to know if that was the truth or not.

Turning on the water he opened his pill bottles and took one of each. The thought to take more crossed his mind again.

Closing his eyes he took a deep breath through his nose, letting it escape from his mouth. It was time to face another day.