My Reflection Is Not Mine
When I look in the mirror, I see my reflection. Blue eyes. Brown hair. A nose that is simultaneously too big and too small. When it smiles, so do I.
It can be cool or cute.
Timid or brave.
Happy or sad.
Yet when I look in the mirror, I do not see myself. Rather, I see a reflection of everyone else. I am trapped, forced to act as a puppet to people pulling my strings:
My family.
My friends.
Random strangers I catch glimpses of on the train.
Every other person has more power over my reflection than I do.
Yet this is not the story of my reflection. It is a story of me.
It is about time I pick up a pen and write.