The Stranger in the Mirror

Standing,
Staring in the mirror.
I gaze at my reflection.
I observe the features;
The colors,
The shades,
The contours.
Though I've seen this reflection thousands of times before,
I don't recognize the being staring back at me.
She seems odd and awkward.
I sigh.
She does the same.
I look closer;
The nose,
The lips,
The eyes.
Yes, the eyes,
Their colors;
Brown, green, yellow, blue.
They merge and dissolve together,
Making inimitable shapes around the pupils.
I begin to wish I could look beyond the colors,
Beyond the iris,
Beyond the pupil,
Beyond the individual parts that make up the eye.
I wish I could look deeper
Into the essence of this individual staring at me with uncertainty.
I yearn to know who she truly is.
What does she enjoy?
What pleases her?
What causes her distress?
What things have happened to formulate who she is?
What secrets does she hide?
What fears grip her very soul?
What passions ignite her spirit?
What is it that inspires her to press onward and begin each day anew?
Things are now teetering dangerously on the brink of insanity.
What used to be familiar is now foreign.
What used to be normal is now anomalous.
I begin to notice the crimson splotches.
I watch as the features transform.
The brows furrow.
The lips tremble.
That's when I see it.
Her soul spills from those colorful orbs.
The liquefied fears, passions, secrets, pleasures, disdain, and misery.
They trickle slowly down her cheeks.
Oh, yes.
I remember you now.

After a shower, I was standing gazing at myself in the mirror. We age so quickly, yet we don't notice until we stop and look more deeply at ourselves. While I carry on with day to day life, I really don't know who I truly am. Looking in the mirror is like looking at a stranger.