You Are My Mirror

I’m not a big fan of looking in mirrors.  In fact, I’d rather only have one mirror in the house—one in a room with no lighting.

I don’t see what you see—I see something different.

I see an aging man with a face scared by years of smoking and drinking—grey hairs protruding from my chin, and the sides of my head.  I feel a light sensitivity that induces migraine headaches and disrupts my ability to think clearly, or store memories properly.

I wonder where the last ten years went.  I have a random collection of thoughts, images and emotions stored in my mind—sometimes it’s a struggle to recall a specific time and place.

However, there is an exception.

You.  You are my exception.

Instead of a mirror, I look into your eyes.  When I do so, I truly know that you see the good in me—that me that I can’t see.

You place your little hand on my cheek, and stare at me with those honest eyes—letting me know that I’m worth something.  Even if, at times, I don’t believe in myself—your belief in me keeps things moving forward.

When I look at you, I see me—and if I look long enough, it all becomes clear.  You are me, and I you—and we are in this together.

I’m not going to let you down.

I’m not going to let my insecurities take over.

I’m going to understand that the sad, confusing and hectic moments in life shall pass—and the happy, clear and stable moments shall overcome.  Always.

You, my dear, are my mirror.  For in your eyes I see my reflection—and in your smile I see my worth, my reason.

I love you.  Always and forever, no matter where in the universe I am loving you from.


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