Man In The Mirror



I can no longer look into the mirror and face the man on the other side of it. He looks at me with such disappointed and angry eyes that it makes me want to weep. I stand in front of the mirror and see a man that looks like me, but is not me. The man on the other side of the mirror is true to who he is and lives his life accordingly. When I was but a boy and would look at the boy in the mirror we were one and the same. I was me and he was me. I was myself. As I grew older and looked into the mirror I saw gradual differences develop between myself and the person on the other side of the mirror. That person was always so disappointed in me and because of that our visits grew shorter and less frequent. The words that he spoke to me stung like a truth that I didn’t want to face. When I look into the mirror now, I have come to realize that the man on the other side of the mirror and me are so different that we can never be one again. It is so hard to face what you could have become when you have fallen so incredibly short. I wonder what I look like to him. I am probably a distorted figure that only shares his outline. When he looks at me does he see the failing of potential or just a wasted life? Out of anger I punched the mirror and it shattered. My hand bled and as the drops of blood covered the mirror I could no longer see the man on the other side of it. Without looking at what I could have been perhaps I could convince myself that I was not a failure. As the delusion faded I knew that nothing had changed. I was still me and now I was utterly alone. I could not see what I could have achieved and was left with the hollowness of all that I had failed to achieve.