The Shadow in the Mirror

I stand in the center of this dimly lit room, the surrounding walls seem to be on the verge of engulfing me. An old, worn mirror stands in front of me, but is the reflection in it really me?

Recently, life has been like being caught in a thick fog. I always wake up on strange streets, with no recollection at all of how I got there. There are some inexplicable receipts in my wallet for things I have no memory of purchasing. I ask my colleagues and friends, but they just look at me with strange expressions, as if I'm fabricating absurd stories.

At night, I lie in bed, trying to sort out my thoughts. I keep telling myself that this is just a mental trance caused by too much stress. But how can those real and strange occurrences be easily ignored? I remember yesterday, at the company, when I opened my desk drawer, there was a key inside. It had a peculiar shape, and I'm certain I've never seen it before. I have no idea which door it could possibly unlock.

"Maybe I'm really sick," I mutter to myself in front of the mirror. The reflection of myself in the mirror looks pale, with eyes full of fear and confusion. My hand slowly reaches up to touch the face in the mirror. What my fingertips touch is the cold surface of the mirror, yet it feels as if the "me" in the mirror is also touching me, with an indescribable sense of strangeness.

Every night, I can hear faint footsteps, lingering right outside my door. I muster up the courage to check, but there's no one outside. Is it my illusion? But the sound is so real, one step after another, as if stepping on my heartbeat. I start to wonder if someone is deliberately playing tricks on me, or if all of this is just my own imagination. Deep down, I'm eager to find the answers, yet I'm also afraid to face the truth. I'm afraid of discovering that I'm truly insane, afraid of learning that there are secrets hidden behind this seemingly normal world that I can't bear.

Tonight, when the footsteps sound again, I decide not to back down anymore. I'm going to follow this sound and see where it leads me. I suddenly fling open the door and rush into the darkness, shouting loudly, "Who is it? Who's out there?" The only response I get is endless silence. I grope my way forward in the dark, my heart pounding like thunder. Suddenly, a flash of light appears, and I find myself in a strange basement. There are old boxes stacked all around, and the air is filled with a musty smell.

In the corner of the basement, there is a huge mirror. I slowly approach it, and the image in the mirror gradually becomes clear. It's me, yet not entirely me. There's a strange smile on my face, and my eyes show a fierceness I've never seen before. I take a terrified step back and bump into a hard object. Turning around, I see another "me", holding a knife and staring straight at me.

"Who are you? Why are you here?" I ask, trembling.

That "me" lets out a cold laugh. "I'm you, the self you've been avoiding. You're the one who did all those strange things. You just don't have the courage to admit it."

Just then, I wake up from the dream, drenched in sweat. I look at the mirror beside the bed, and the reflection of myself looks exhausted. Is all of this a dream or reality? Can I really be sure of who I am?