I can't stand the sight of my reflection.
Every time I see her, I cringe. Look at her - the dark shadows beneath her eyes, the slumped shoulders, the half-empty gaze that stares back at me. She's disgusting. She's a monster.
But is she real? Am I real?
I don't know.
Maybe she's the real one and the reason she looks the way she does is because she always sees me and is terrified that something horrible will happen. Maybe I'm the real one and I'm terrified that she's going to let that something occur.
Or maybe we're just the same person and I'm letting my thoughts become too unraveled. There's no such thing as another side to a mirror. It's just a piece of glass that reflects that which is in front of its surface. But then again, what do I know? Not much, if I'm being completely honest.
There are times where I'll pass my reflection and stop, stare at her, and the urge to do nothing more but take her hand and say I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything I've said to her and everything I've threatened to do. She doesn't deserve those words. I do. Not her.
I'd like to think my reflection wants to protect me. She doesn't want me to know what's happening on her side of the mirror. Whether it be better or worse than mine, she doesn't want to upset me. Because she is still me and deep down, she loves me for who I am - even if I myself can't seem to share the same sentiments lately.
The few times I do manage to catch a glimpse of something beautiful in the mirror, I have to pause for a moment.
This is me. I shouldn't be loathing her - me - like this.
Maybe she feels the same and the reason I'm so damn afraid of my reflection is because she knows what needs to be done and I'm too stubborn to listen.
So I suppose I'll keep trying, if only for the sake of my reflection.
Mirror, mirror on the wall...who's the realest of us all?