What If Your Reflection Could Talk Back?

The First Time It Spoke

It happened on an ordinary Tuesday morning.

I was standing in front of my bathroom mirror, toothbrush in hand, eyes still heavy with sleep. And then, my reflection blinked — before I did.

At first, I thought I was just tired. But then, it spoke.

"You look exhausted," it said.

I dropped my toothbrush, toothpaste splattering across the sink. My voice trembled.

"You… you can talk?"

"Apparently," it replied, tilting its head in a way I hadn’t moved. "But the real question is — will you listen?"

Conversations with the Glass

Over the next few days, I tested it. Every time I stood before the mirror, my reflection was ready. It wasn’t creepy, just… strange. It never repeated my words; it answered them.

When I asked how it was possible, it said,

"I’m not a ghost or magic trick. I’m just… you. The you you don’t listen to."

It was unsettling at first, but slowly, I found myself looking forward to our conversations. My reflection wasn’t polite or sugarcoated — it was brutally honest.

"You hide your smile in public because you’re afraid of being noticed," it told me one morning.

"You say you’re fine when you’re not, just to avoid uncomfortable questions."

It knew me in ways no one else could — because it was me.

Facing the Truth

One rainy evening, I stood at the mirror after a long, frustrating day at work. I had been passed over for a promotion again.

"You didn’t even fight for it," my reflection said.

"Yes, I did," I argued.

It shook its head. "No, you convinced yourself you weren’t good enough before anyone else could. You’ve been doing that for years."

Its words stung. Not because they were harsh, but because they were true.

I realized that if my reflection could talk, it wouldn’t waste time with pleasantries. It would cut right to the heart of things I’d been avoiding.

The Hardest Conversation

Weeks later, I woke up on a Sunday and avoided the mirror all morning. I knew it wanted to talk about something I’d been burying — the way I’d been drifting away from my friends and family.

When I finally faced it, it didn’t greet me. It just asked,

"Why are you letting life happen around you instead of to you?"

I had no answer. I just stood there, eyes locked on my own. For the first time, I didn’t see a tired version of myself. I saw someone waiting — waiting for me to start living.

"You’ve been so afraid of failing that you’ve stopped trying," it continued. "But here’s the truth: the world won’t pause for you to feel ready. You have to step into it scared, messy, and uncertain."

The Last Talk

One morning, I asked my reflection,

"Will you always be here to talk to me?"

It smiled — my smile. "Only until you start talking to yourself without me. You don’t really need me; you just need to listen to yourself more often."

And then, just like that, it stopped speaking. Weeks went by without a word from the mirror.

At first, I missed it. But slowly, I realized something: its voice hadn’t disappeared. It was in me now. Every time I hesitated, every time I doubted myself, I heard it — not from the glass, but from within.

Conclusion — The Lesson I Learned

If my reflection could talk back, it would tell me what I needed to hear, not what I wanted to hear. But here’s the thing — I didn’t need magic for that. I just needed to slow down, face myself honestly, and listen.

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Thank you for reading

Best Regards: Habib