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Pablo Picasso, Girl Before a Mirror, Oil on Canvas, 1932
"A picture can paint a thousand words," and here's a couple from me.

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The girl glaring back remains to be a mystery.
There's sadness in her eyes, and the spark has lost its twinkle.
The black mascara leave its dirty traces on her pale, almost translucent cheeks that reveal the veins hidden underneath.
She had just cried.
Cried her billionth tear, in secret.
The sunlight glistens on her shoulders but never seems to seep through her.
Tiny droplets of sweat appear on her pores but she doesn't move.
She glares. She pities. But she cannot stop this insatiable feeling of extending her stay underwater before coming up for a breath.
Hands are directed at her direction but she just stares.
The hands disappear one by one and merges with the background.
She floats to no bearing and entrusts her life to the waves.
The waves deceive and estrange but this is all she has.
She catches a gulp of air and as her diaphragm contracts, she shuts her eyes.
But all she sees is that mysterious girl glaring back.