Mirror in the Morning

For as long as I can remember, I tried to be someone everyone else liked.

In school, I laughed at jokes I didn’t find funny. I wore clothes that didn’t feel like me. I agreed with people just so they would not get upset. I said "yes" when I wanted to say "no." And after all that, I would go home feeling empty and small—like I had left pieces of myself behind.

I thought being liked meant being loved. I thought if I could just fit into every box others had for me, I would finally feel whole. But I didn’t. I only felt tired.

It wasn’t just at school. Even at home, I tried to be the perfect child. I smiled when I wanted to cry. I hid my feelings to keep others happy. I stopped asking for things I needed, thinking it was selfish.

One day, I stood in front of my mirror, brushing my hair. I looked at myself—not just at my face, but into my eyes. For the first time, I noticed how sad I looked. Not because of something that had happened that day, but because of everything I had never said.

In that quiet moment, I whispered, "I miss you."

I wasn’t talking to someone else. I was talking to me—the real me I had pushed away for years. The version of myself that had dreams, thoughts, feelings, and flaws. The person I was born as before the world told me to be someone else.

That day, I decided to change. Not all at once. But little by little, I promised to come back to myself.

I started small. I wrote one kind thing to myself each morning on a sticky note and placed it on the mirror:

“You are enough.”

“Your feelings matter.”

“You don’t have to be perfect.”

I started saying “no” to things that didn’t feel right—even when it was hard. I stopped apologizing for every little thing. I began spending time alone, not because I was sad, but because I wanted to get to know myself better.

I learned what I liked: quiet walks, soft music, rainy afternoons, sketching in a notebook, laughing until my belly hurt. I realized I didn’t have to be loud to be strong. I didn’t have to be liked by everyone to feel worthy.

I also cried. A lot. I cried for all the years I ignored myself. I cried for the little version of me who thought love only came from outside. But each tear was healing. It made room for something new.

One day, someone asked, “You’ve changed. What happened?”

I smiled and said, “I finally met myself.”

Loving myself didn’t mean I became selfish or stopped caring about others. It meant I cared for myself too. I gave myself the same kindness I gave everyone else. I spoke to myself like a best friend, not an enemy.

There are still days I feel unsure. There are still voices that whisper, “You’re not good enough.” But now, I know how to answer them. I know how to hold my heart and remind it: “You are loved. First and foremost—by me.”

Now, when I stand in front of the mirror each morning, I still look into my eyes. But I don’t see sadness. I see someone strong. Someone real. Someone loved—from the inside out.

Moral of the Story:

The world can only love you truly when you learn to love yourself first. You are not too much. You are not too little. You are enough.