The Girl in the Mirror

Most times, I don’t look in the mirror. Not when I brush my teeth or comb my hair or apply fingertips of moisturizer, not even when I slick mascara over my lashes. It’s not for a lack of mirrors- I have no shortage of those. It’s simply because most times, I prefer to avoid the girl looking back at me.

She’s too volatile, too unpredictable, mercurial. The girl in the mirror is a kite at high altitude; buffeted upwards and forwards by pleasant breezes on the good days, hurricaned and nipped at and tail-diving back towards the unforgiving ground on the bad. The girl in the mirror does not have a set schedule in place for her good days, her bad days. She does not give indications for when she will be happy and when she will be sad and when she will be overwhelmed by those million little subtle emotions in between. The girl in the mirror does as she pleases, when she pleases.

And the girl outside of it does not like to take that uncertain risk of checking in on her.