The Girl in the Mirror

The girl in the mirror is someone else, she’s something fresh. She pouts, she twirls on her toes. She stares pointedly if you dare invade her silvery realm- she doesn’t like to look at any one else but herself. Hands on her hips she glances slyly; this side, now that side- admiring herself. If you catch her looking at you, she denies it angrily. She only looks at herself- remember?

Taking her photos is pointless. The camera is quite incapable of capturing her essence. In the photos, she seems lifeless without the twinkle in her eye and the irresistible twitch of her lips. She isn’t pretty and yet, her effervescent persona seems to make up for that. One tiny compliment and she beams at you and starts talking. She speaks dramatically- hands and eyebrows doing the talking better than her. One tiny affront and she begins to scowl. Sincere penance is demanded before she warms to you again.
She is always happy, always smiling. Her laughter fills up the room. Yet, sometimes she cries. In between her sobs, she peeks curiously from behind her hands to see how she looks when she cries. She looks at me with pleading eyes, imploring me to speak words of comfort. Easily appeased, her laughter returns.
I seem to be her only friend; she refuses to speak to anyone else but me. I think I know her well, and yet she leaves me flummoxed after every conversation. I can’t form an opinion about her because everything about her is so volatile.

Sometimes, I think she’s me- but my good sense tells me she can’t be. I’m only human; but the girl in the mirror… She’s someone else. She’s something fresh.

[Last post for a month! Relish it, people :P]

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