She dances as if the world doesn’t watch her. She sings as if the world doesn’t hear her. And I desperately try to be the person that she is, only to realize that she is already taken, and that I must be me. But as I watch her twirl as the world burns down, I wish that I could be that confident. I wish that I could find something within me that wouldn’t care what others thought. I wish that I wouldn’t worry all the time about how I look, how I sound, and how I feel.
The floor she dances on is barren. Covered in dust, it only provides traction for her to move her talented feet to dance even better. In the small white dress, I look through the mirror, placing my hand against the cold glass. Peering into another dimension, through the mirror at a girl I seemingly used to know. Her long brown hair that flows to her waist, twirling around her body as she spins with grace.
Who is this girl? Where did she come from?
Whatever I try in order to speak to her, it doesn’t work. She cannot hear me, but I can hear her. Perhaps this is because I am nothing but a reflection; the reflection of a life she left behind long ago. But even as I tug at my flame-like red hair, I know that it must be more than that.
Even as I blink, she’s stopped dancing and stands up across from me, on the other side of the mirror. She watches me with a strange gaze…this girl that looks so much like a doll. What I wouldn’t give to shatter the glass between our dimensions so that I could speak to her; just once. To whisper to her two words: thank you.
But even as she turns and walks away, I feel a tear trickle down my cheek, my hand leaving the mirror and the ability to let go. Because in the end, the girl I see in the reflection…she’s me.