I smiled. She smiled back. I looked at her, and she stared at me blankly. I checked her appearance, her form, her style. She looked like me, exactly like me. I saw her facade in front of me, but I did not even know if she cared. I couldn’t even touch her. All I could do was to gaze at her, with the glass separating us from our own worlds. She’s just made for the eyes...or made by my eyes. All she did was to be at her best, making me realize my physical flaws. Faking a smile really helped. She would be happy with that, even without knowing that I was breaking inside. I was hurt, but she did not even try to know. She stunned everyone with her cheerful smile, with the beam in her eyes, and with the naive face we always loved. She totally wanted attention; however she’s just the illusion.
But me, I’m made out of flesh...with blood, with soul. I was living my life. I did not know if she could live her own life trapped in glasses. I did not know how she always made me think about imperfections. I tried to detach myself from her, but she’s always following me. She was the one pulling me down when I was about to rise. I did see from her my shortcomings, even little cracks, little dents, little mistakes. I had my soul, my heart, and my mind. But, she was influencing me on my decisions, always. We couldn’t stop pretending things to be perfect, even if all else failed. We couldn’t stop because she wanted it, even if I was already tired of being the conceited perfectionist. She would not leave me.
I always see her, and as I look at her, I see myself.
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