The Reflection

I look at my reflection in the mirror. My reflection looks back at me. The reflection cages my eyes. I struggle to see the boundary of the mirror, but it shimmers into darkness.

“Is it really my reflection?” I ask myself. My voice trembles as it leaves my lips, but no sound reaches my ears. I look down at my puggy hands, and the reflection mirrors my movement. Yet, I am always a split second off. My mind is always waiting for a signal. We both smile, but while my face curves into a shaky, uncertain grin, she taunts me with her pearly white teeth.

My vision can't penetrate the surface of the mirror. It stands as a wall between the two of us. The truth is always beyond my gaze. My reflection is me; the mirror only reflects my properties. She and I are one, and yet she is different. I can never reach her, never know. She always remains one step away from me. The mirror stands as an unpassable barrier between my two selves. Something dark in her eyes makes chills run through my body. She is the second, the other. She mimics me even before I think of it. She knows me, she can hurt me.

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“I am the real one!” I shout, but my voice dies in my throat. The empty void suffocates me. The chill cracks my skin and slashes my throat. “Why is she so relaxed?”

Then it hit me—where is the light that made the reflection? Darkness surrounds me, yet sunlight bathes her. The darkness presses me like the world is getting ever smaller. I smile again, and she smiles back. But her smile is different. She enjoys it. She doesn’t smile back at me. She smiles at me. Her eyes take a dark turn. She tilts her head to the right, and like a puppet, I do the same.

I can’t resist, so I stretch out my hand. It can’t touch the mirror, for my hand never reaches. There is no mirror in front of me. I am in the mirror. I am the reflection.