I only see myself once, maybe twice, a day.
How can that be? You think,
With a world of mirrors, cameras, and reflections,
Everyone is everywhere.
You're right, but I mean my real self.
The one about to go to bed
After a long day with cover-ups and play pretend.
The one nto checking to see
If her hair is in place, makeup on right.
If her plastic smile is convincing.
The girl underneath all those layers is imperfect.
Hair in a messy bun
Brushed teeth, face blotchy but clean.
We make eye contact,
Me and that girl in the dirty bathroom mirror.
I mean, myself.
And we think. We stare and think for what feels like ten minutes,
ten hours, ten days.
Until we come to an agreement, an understanding.
That girl who is my reflection
Isn't half bad. She is intelligent, but not a genius.
Honest, when you open her up.
Caring, when there is something worth caring about.
Limited, but always up for a challenge.
Stubborn but not unreasonable.
Her only fears are the insecurities she created by herself.
The ones based on her failures
When she doesn't line up perfectly with who she thinks she's
Supposed to be.
Not who she really is.
In realizing this, I think about tomorrow.
Looking ahead to a long day
Reverting back to the cover-ups and dishonesty.
But then I look back again
Back at that girl with the frizzy bun
And red face.
And I think, maybe not.
Maybe, just maybe
I could go a whole day unfiltered.
Maybe less eyeliner, less mascara.
Maybe more sincerety.
Maybe a real smile.