Asymmetry
Knee to knee grief whispered asymmetrical anger. No symmetry in grief even with the mirror clean and nose to nose reflecting back those sad, sad eyes. I am sorry I am not what I intended to be. Grate the voice box of a child, stream tears through it and that is the song my heart makes even though I am not sorry for what I am. Loss is multi-tiered on both sides but no, no symmetry. Each their own stairway to traverse: two up, one back; one up, two back. I scrub the mirror after peering through its shit and seeing myself clearly. I touch my reflection with a fingernail. I chew the nail off. I am still in the mirror. You are still crying in the background. Look, there. I am also crying lopsided tears. I fully love and accept myself. And still, I am sorry. This is not what we worked for.
image from pixabay.com
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Precisely why I avoid looking at mirrors. The conversations with that handsome man looking back at me are to intense to navigate and be able to functionally adapt to an ever changing version of self. I applaud you on your efforts diving in to your inner workings, don't get lost in the rabbit hole but realize your velveteen nature. I'm real, I'm real. Woo-hoo I find my self but look again. Oh brother, will it ever end? I hope you are remembering to laugh.