I peered too long in the mirror. My mind wandered, and I locked gazes with my reflection. The eyes are the windows to the soul, but instead of another to explore anew, it was my untamed wilderness.

At first, the insight was superficial. Covid, complacency, and a desk job have clearly proven we are closer to 30 than 20. We have managed to get back to a more comfortable body, but not too comfortable. We notice blemishes, but with no other soul viewing anything past clothing in our life, we are unconcerned.

Transfixed upon ourselves, deeper revelations overwhelm my psyche. We see the confidence, the flamboyance, the playful nature, the natural inquisitiveness. I am tempted to turn away in satisfaction, but tarry longer as the eyes in the mirror breach our outer defenses.

Doubt, concerns, anxieties, past mistakes, common pitfalls all rush to steal the mirth from the eyes I look upon in the glass. My instinct is to comfort, to humor, to flatter, to appease; but the visage is indeed a perfect image that suffers the same weakness and vices—we cannot be charmed or assuaged by our musings. 

Our stares begin to pierce as we introspect in this visual extrospection. People fear mirrors for the demons they may see, but the true fear, the fierce struggle lies in meeting our own gaze and searching our souls as a close friend, or intimate partner. We cannot hide ourselves from our own gaze, nor can we speak ill of the mirror, which only mimes truth. We may solely alter the truth it reflects.

I control my narrative. I may need others to encourage, to strengthen, to guide, to discipline, but I change the glass’ façade. We, the image and I, are counting on me to change those eyes. Joy or sorrow, weeping or reveling, are mine. For the both of us, I will endeavor to transfigure the soul that is reflected in our eyes.