MIRRORS. 🪞

I still remember the first time.

Tiny hands, wide eyes.

I was nine,

holding up a mirror.

*

And within was a reflection that didn’t hate me back.

It just stared.

Soft.

New.

Unbothered.

It didn’t want anything from me.

And I…

I didn’t want anything from it.

*

But somewhere along the line,

captivation turned to critique.

And that glass, it grew teeth.

It started to BITE.

Started to WHISPER.

Started to show me not just what I was,

but what I wasn’t.

And now?

Now it’s exhausting.

*

Sit there.

Sit there and watch yourself BREATHE.

Watch yourself THINK.

Watch yourself die a little bit inside

each time the image doesn’t fit the picture

you think you’re supposed to be.

*

You’re supposed to check the mirror before you leave the house,

but no one said you had to drown in it.

No one said you had to crawl inside it.

No one said you had to live there….

set up shop in the creases of your own reflection….

*

But we do.

We sit.

We stare.

We scroll.

We snap.

We pose.

We compare.

*

And maybe I’m tired…

Maybe it’s not that I hate how I look,

maybe I’m just sick of the culture of needing to know every angle,

every new pose,

every pore in your face.

Nitpicking the scars you can’t erase.

*

Maybe I’m just sick of the camera clicks,

the constant film rolling on a life that was meant to be LIVED,

not WATCHED.

*

Maybe I’m sick of being the subject of my own scrutiny.

Maybe I’m just tired!!

*

Because the first time I looked,

I was okay.

And the first time I stared,

I was amazed.

But amazement can rot if you leave it out for too long.

Captivation turns to corrosion.

*

And now I hate it.

I hate the mirror.

Hate the camera.

Hate the feeling of my face being boxed up in someone else’s frame.

Hate how my reflection has attached its flaws to MY NAME.

*

And I know,

I know some people live there.

Some people build homes there.

Selfies, vlogs, filters, instagram feeds,

a home of their own design.

Some find glee in all of this.

*

Good for them.

I clap for them.

I’m glad for them.

*

But me?

I get TRAPPED.

I fall into the mirror like Alice in the wonderland

and never find the rabbit hole out.

*

I read into every corner,

every flicker,

every tremble.

And my mind is not built for that.

My mind is too sharp, too soft, too raw for that.

It cuts me open.

*

They say, love yourself.

I say, “cool, but leave me out of the damn photoshoots.”

*

And even if,

and even when,

I build a version of myself I love,

when my mind finally accepts my reflection’s WHOLE,

and I see a face that feels like HOME,

I still won’t want to sit and stare at it.

I still won’t want to live in a mirror.

Still won’t want to be a moving picture,

a still frame,

a digital echo.

*

Because we were never meant to see ourselves this much.

We were meant to BE.

To BREATHE.

To MOVE.

To LIVE.

To LOVE.

But now it seems like love is based on the physique that STANDS before us,

not the thoughts INSIDE.

*

Yes, even if the mirror claps back one day

and says, “You’re the fairest of them all.”

I still refuse to belong

I still won’t want to stay.

Still won’t want to sit and pose.

Still won’t want to turn to stone.

*

Let me be unseen sometimes,

let my face be a ghost I greet on occasion,

let my soul carve the image, not the other way around.

Let my mind be my guiding light.

Not this face that isn’t my own?!

*

I don’t hate myself.

I hate the mirror.

I hate the addiction.

I hate the culture.

I hate the way the reflection grows fangs and eats me alive.

*

Push the mirror aside.

Push the camera aside.

Push the world aside,

and just BE.

Our reflections are nothing but a fleeting dream.

*

And maybe….

maybe some faces are built to live in glass.

But not mine.

I’d rather touch grass.

*

feel dirt under my nails…..

run without posing……

breathe without performing…….

And live without needing a lens to prove it.

*

We were never meant to see our faces this much,

and maybe, maybe that’s why

we’re forgetting how to be human.

Because the perfect view can’t somehow replace meaning

And there’s more to me than what the mirrors tell me!