I looked in the mirror —
it looked back at me.
But there was something different
I could see.
Inside, my mouth began to move,
and then it said:
“We must face what we dread.”
I was confused —
startled at first —
then, with me, it conversed.
“We’re not fine,”
my reflection goes,
as if it knows.
“I am,”
I shoot back.
Our words collide with a smack.
We trade for a while,
neither giving in —
then my reflection points to my skin.
“What’s that bruise from?”
it begins.
My smile thins.
“Practice,”
I respond.
“How long?”
“Nothing’s wrong,”
I snap.
It all feels like a trap.
“The eye bags?”
it goes again,
as if it knows why and when.
“Studying,”
I reply,
looking into my reflection’s eye.
“You’re in denial,”
it says with a sharp glare.
“Everyone can see — all the signs are there.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,”
I try to say —
my attempt to keep the doubt at bay.
“You’re breaking,
inside to out.
Soon problems will begin to sprout.”
“You’re wrong.”
“You know I’m not.”
“YES, you are!”
“Look at yourself,”
it says — and then, it’s gone.
The image fades; the mirror withdraws.
It’s just me —
looking at myself.
I look at the mirror —
I really look.
That’s when my hands shook.
I realized what happened —
that was a sign…
I was talking to myself the whole time.
