Mirror

A mirror is the most honest friend and the cruelest enemy. It never lies. Stay up late, and it shows you dark circles. Cry, and it shows you red eyes. Smile, and it smiles too, but that smile always feels like it's missing something compared to the real one. The you in the mirror is always a little older, a little heavier, a little more tired than you imagine. It's not the mirror's fault; it's that our perception of ourselves has never been accurate. As a child, I loved making faces in front of the mirror. Stretching my mouth wide, squinting my eyes, pushing up my nose to become someone I didn't recognize. Back then, the mirror was a toy, a magician, capable of conjuring infinite versions of myself. As I grew older, the mirror became an examiner. Before going out, I had to check: Was my hair messy? Were my clothes wrinkled? Was my expression decent enough? The mirror no longer let me transform; it only judged. But the most important thing the mirror taught me wasn't about appearance. It was one day, looking at the person in the mirror, I suddenly felt a sense of unfamiliar fatigue. I stared at him for a long time before realizing it wasn't someone else, but me. It was the me I hadn't bothered to look at properly. Since that day, I've started taking a little time each day to look in the mirror. Not to check my appearance, but to talk to that person. To tell him he worked hard today, that it's okay to be weak sometimes, that he doesn't have to do everything perfectly. The person in the mirror listened quietly, without replying, but I felt like he heard me. The mirror also taught me that everyone has many sides. You'll show different faces to different people.