The Ghost in My Reflection

𝘐 𝘛𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘐 𝘞𝘢𝘴 𝘈𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦—𝘜𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘐 𝘚𝘢𝘸 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘉𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘈𝘵 𝘔𝘦

It happened on a night when everything felt too heavy to carry.

I walked into my bathroom, closed the door, and stared into the mirror—not because I wanted to, but because I needed some sign that I still existed beneath all the noise of my life.

But what I saw wasn’t me.

Not the me I knew.

Not the me I remembered.

Instead, there was a softness in my eyes that didn’t feel like my own.

A sadness I had been ignoring for months.

A tiredness that went deeper than anything sleep could fix.

And then, for the briefest moment—just long enough to make me step back—

I saw her.

A faint outline.

A flicker.

A ghost.

Not the kind that haunts houses.

The kind that haunts people.

The ghost… was me.

Or at least, the version of me I had left behind.

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𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘕𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘔𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘕𝘰 𝘚𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦—𝘠𝘦𝘵 𝘍𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘛𝘰𝘰 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘛𝘰 𝘐𝘨𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘦

I blinked, expecting the image to disappear. Instead, the outline sharpened.

Her expression was familiar, like someone I once knew but hadn’t spoken to in years. She didn’t look dangerous or frightening. If anything, she looked… disappointed. Not in a dramatic way—more like someone watching you make the same mistake over and over, hoping you’ll finally see it for yourself.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I whispered.

The ghost didn’t answer, obviously.

But she didn’t need to.

Because I suddenly understood what she represented.

She was the version of me who used to dream.

The me who used to laugh easily.

The me who believed in possibilities.

The me who didn’t feel like life was something she had to survive.

I had buried her under responsibilities, expectations, and other people’s needs. And now she was standing inside the mirror, asking for attention I had denied her for far too long.

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𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗠𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗜 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘇𝗲𝗱 𝗜 𝗪𝗮𝘀 𝗛𝗮𝘂𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗠𝘆𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳

I stayed there for minutes that felt like hours, trying to understand what was happening.

Had I reached a breaking point?

Probably.

Did it matter?

Maybe not.

Because whether the ghost was real or imagined, she forced me to face something I had avoided for years:

I had abandoned myself.

Piece by piece.

Choice by choice.

I had become so focused on being who everyone needed me to be that I stopped being who I needed me to be.

That realization hit harder than anything supernatural ever could.

The ghost in the mirror didn’t scare me.

What scared me was how long she had been waiting to be seen.

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𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗚𝗵𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝗦𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗧𝗼 𝗦𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗸—𝗪𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗦𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗔 𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱

She never used words.

She didn’t need a voice.

Her message came through the way her eyes softened whenever I looked too tired to keep going.

Through the way her shoulders straightened whenever I thought about giving up.

Through the way her outline brightened whenever I thought about something I used to love—writing, singing, painting, dreaming.

She wasn’t haunting me.

She was guiding me.

Reminding me.

Pushing me toward the version of myself I once believed was possible.

Every night for the next week, I found myself back at the mirror. Not out of fear—but comfort. And every night, the ghost appeared more clearly.

Not because she was becoming stronger…

…but because I was finally willing to see her.

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𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗡𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗜 𝗔𝘀𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝗛𝗲𝗿 𝗧𝗼 𝗦𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗠𝗲 𝗪𝗵𝗼 𝗜 𝗪𝗮𝘀 𝗦𝘂𝗽𝗽𝗼𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝗧𝗼 𝗕𝗲

One night, after an especially difficult day, I leaned close to the mirror and whispered, “What do you want from me?”

For a moment, she didn’t move.

Then her expression changed—just slightly.

It wasn’t anger.

It wasn’t frustration.

It was… hope.

And in that instant, I realized the truth:

She didn’t want anything from me.

She wanted something for me.

She wanted me to reclaim the parts of myself I had let fade.

The curiosity.

The joy.

The creativity.

The courage.

The self-respect.

She wanted me to stop surviving and start living.

Not tomorrow.

Not “one day.”

Now.

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𝗛𝗼𝘄 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗚𝗵𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝗜𝗻 𝗠𝘆 𝗥𝗲𝗳𝗹𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗗𝗶𝘀𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗱—𝗔𝗻𝗱 𝗪𝗵𝘆 𝗧𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗪𝗮𝘀 𝗔 𝗚𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗧𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴

As the weeks passed, I made small changes.

I slept more.

I said “no” more often.

I picked up hobbies I’d abandoned years ago.

I allowed myself to want things again.

To feel things again.

And slowly, something shifted.

One night, I looked into the mirror, and she wasn’t there.

No outline.

No flicker.

No ghost.

Just me.

But this time, my reflection didn’t look like a stranger or a shadow.

She looked awake.

She looked present.

She looked whole.

And in that moment, I understood:

The ghost didn’t disappear because she left.

She disappeared because she came home.

She wasn’t a haunting.

She was a reunion.

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𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗰𝗹𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻 — 𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗧𝗼 𝗕𝗲𝗟𝗶𝗲𝘃𝗲 𝗜𝗳 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗘𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗦𝗲𝗲 𝗔 “𝗚𝗵𝗼𝘀𝘁” 𝗜𝗻 𝗬𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗢𝘄𝗻 𝗥𝗲𝗳𝗹𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻

Maybe you’ll never see a ghost in your mirror.

But maybe you’ve felt one inside you—the part of you that feels lost, forgotten, or buried under everything life has thrown your way.

If you ever feel that ghost reaching out,

don’t turn away.

She’s not there to scare you.

She’s there to save you.

Sometimes the scariest thing in the world isn’t losing yourself…

It’s finally deciding to find yourself again.

And if my story means anything at all, let it mean this:

The ghost in your reflection is just the person you’re meant to become—

reminding you that you’re still in there, waiting to be found.

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Thank you for reading...

Regards: Fazal Hadi