Human Mirrors

I used to have a mirror hanging on the wall of my home. Anytime anyone would pay a visit—even if for a moment, a night, a year—they would look into it and see their worlds reflected back. Many men have come into my home searching for their mothers and so they see them in my mirror. Many still—whether conscious or otherwise—have come searching for their fathers and so they see them in my mirror. I’ve had men come through my doors looking for their exes, their friends, their ones that got away; and so they see them in my mirror. Come over, look in, I’ll show you your soul. Make yourselves comfortable, you always do. But when I look in the mirror, I see nothing. Not me. Not you.

Once, came in a man that changed it all. He came in, looked into the mirror on my wall and saw me. In time, I started to see him too. The longer he stayed, the clearer my reflection of him grew. Eventually, we got used to seeing each other in our own reflections. Eventually, our reflections seemed to look the same. Eventually, we couldn’t see anything but each other. I couldn’t see anything but him.

Source: Tumblr
The mirror started to crack, heavy from the weight of our expectations of each other. The problem with seeing yourself in someone else is, you tend to forget that their problems are not your own—their insecurities, their shortcomings, their vices, their past; they’re not your own. We were two separate people trying to live under the same roof with the same face, disregarding our individual beating hearts shouting at the top of their lungs that THIS ISN’T WHAT I FOUGHT SO HARD TO GET TO.

So the mirror had no choice but to break. It fell off its hook from the weight of it all. After living off of reflections and each other for so long, it took a moment to adjust. But once he was no longer looking at me through broken glass,  he could finally see me for me. He looked at me, saw I wasn’t what he thought I was, and left. It was too quiet for awhile but I’ve grown used to it. I’ve started to fill the place with music and poetry that I love. The blank space on the wall where the mirror used to be, it’s still blank. I’m fine with it, for now. Best to let uncertainty be. At least I am finally alone in my own home again.

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