Mirror Mirror, On the Wall…

When I look in the mirror, I see a whole lot of things.

I see red hair, freckles, acne, and brown eyes hidden behind thick-rimmed glasses.

My hair is never how I want it to come out—at least until it’s time to go to bed. I brush it too often, and sometimes straighten it for hours in front of the mirror.

My freckles play peek-a-boo throughout the year, half the time barely existent, while the rest of the time taking over my chest and shoulders.

And as for my boring brown eyes, they stare right back into my soul. They wander around, looking for some reason to stand here a second longer than last time, trying to find something that I can call attractive.

And then my brain laughs, and asks, “Why does that even matter?”

When I look in the mirror, I see a girl who loves her family and friends, but gets aggravated way too quickly with the people she loves the most. Certain things just make her tick, and some things make her turn around and leave the room. Some things make her fall silent. Some things make her leave the house and take a walk. Some things make her pack up her things and leave altogether.

When I look in the mirror, I see someone who second-guesses her choices, and at times, even herself.

I see a girl who practices smiling, because when she was younger, she didn’t know how to smile “the right way”. She tries to figure out which way won’t make her eyes disappear behind her round cheeks, which way it won’t make her glasses hide her eyebrows, which way it will look genuine, but not be too much. She just doesn’t have the right smile down yet.

The mirror shows me a dancer, a designer, a writer, and an architect. I see an infinite amount of opportunities—doors consistently shutting and opening.

I always see a procrastinator.

Sometimes, I see a thirteen-year-old girl cut her hair and put on too much eyeliner when I look in the mirror. She changes the things she has control over, and cries over the things she can’t.

When I look at the mirror, an overemotional young woman stares back with swollen eyes, sad for the thirteen-year-old she used to be, and petrified for the thirty-year-old she’ll soon become.

I used to put makeup on every day, until one day I wondered why I do it so often. Now, I only put it on when I feel like it. The mirror smiles back at me when I go to work with nothing on my face, with the exception of my glasses.

I’ve noticed that I look a little longer at the imperfections than what I like about myself.

When I look in the mirror, I see someone who knows who she is. She knows her limits, what she likes, and what she doesn’t. She may be guarded, but for good reason. She tries not to overshare information, and sometimes gets carried away, but she rarely regrets it.

Her mane may be wild, but her mind is tame. The woman in the mirror is an over-thinker, overemotional, and consistently overwhelmed, but she knows how to check herself before she wrecks herself.

Her boring brown eyes have seen many days pass by, both good and bad. They might suck at doing their job, but that’s what her glasses are for. They help her see the things she wouldn’t have been able to without them.

She appreciates art and nature and all things beautiful—except for the occasional crazy person. She sees past others’ imperfections quicker than her own, and wonders if anyone does the same for her.

When I look in the mirror, I see someone strong. It takes a lot out of her to be strong, but she does it anyway, because she has to. The girl in the mirror smiles at the improvement that she’s made, but she continues to work on herself.


Prompt: Finish this sentence: “When I look in the mirror, I see…”

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