A mirror. A reflection. A glance in the past.


Is it you?

It’s you on the outside in a flipped image.

But is it you on the inside?

Who are you?

A lover, a dreamer, a fighter, a peacemaker, a planner?



Because who I see on the outside, who I see walking around in school, who I see making a speech–that’s not me.

That’s a lie. That’s an impostor. That’s a different person wearing my skin.

But I use it for protection, this deceiver. Yes, I used her for defense. I used her for an act.

But it’s not that easy to stop acting.

So when I look into a mirror, my image is blurred, distorted, unclear–she has overtaken and overpowered my will and has replaced me.

Coming back home on the one-hour bus ride is a fight–a fight to the death, where I try to strangle her because her protection is no longer needed anymore. I want to get out, to breathe, to live, to see my family, to see my friends.

Because you see, even when the curtains fall, the actors don’t just forget the roles they’ve played. The roles affect them, transform them, become them.

I fight so hard, so¬†hard that when I’m in the car in my own skin, I talk up a storm, let out all the words I’ve been afraid to say, the words I’ve been waiting to say, the words I’ve been keeping secret when that person took over.

She’s protection. She helps me blend. She helps me answer questions. She helps me listen.

But she’s not my reflection.

I know who I am.

I know my reflection.


A mirror. A reflection. A glance in the past.

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