-Sight Uncertain

My thoughts on a random image. Dual perception of a person and a time]

The world told me who to be, and I listened. They showed me the acceptable things to concern myself with, and I focused on them. They gave me a list on what not to think or entertain, and I buried my head in the sand, obeying. They whispered into my ear and made me repeat their words until I could regurgitate them on demand, and I did, with passion. They taught me to be kind when it didn't matter but give into my darkest hatred when it did. Or did I get that backwards? And all of these things defined me. They were me and I was them.

And then I looked into a mirror. Who was the reflection that stared back at me? I didn't even recognize myself. Where was my innocence and my smile? Or was it my focus and drive? I felt as if my very soul had been stripped from me and in its place a talking bot was installed to do their bidding. And I had. A useful idiot. But when I was alone and looked at my own eyes in the mirror, they pulled the anger from me. I remembered. No one was watching, so I could be my true self. What I saw saddened me. Because it was the very thing I had been programmed to hate. To war against. To conquer. But when the crowds were all gone, and the bull horns and cameras were put away, and all that I had was my mirror and myself ... I was forced to see who I truly was. Something that I didn't like.

Will I put on that mask again, tomorrow? Probably so. Will I forget about my kind eyes and use the replacements to destroy those whom I've been taught to? Probably so. And when I return home, if I am fortunate to, will I look into that mirror again and feel shame and regret? Probably so. At least for the night. And tomorrow? The transitioning continues. But what will happen when I stop looking into that mirror? What happens when I turn it to face the wall and willingly allow myself to become everything they wanted me to be? When the old me dies, what then? Who will save me when I cannot save myself? Or have I just done that? Am I too far gone? Or have I been enlightened? Is there no way back? Or have I progressed? Is the little girl in the mirror strong enough for the both of us? But which one is she?

Which side of the glass am I standing on? I simply cannot remember.

She looks so sad, I thought.

She looks so naive, obviously so.

She looks so vulnerable. Even though she cannot see it.

She looks so lost. But has no idea.

She looks ... I'm not sure which one of us is speaking anymore. Am I both? Or has one just died?

I broke the glass just to make her go away, but she did not. She still haunts me through the shards.

Is the other little girl in the mirror strong enough? Stronger than I?

[I wrote this to represent the struggles between self-recognition. The tug of war of identity in the polarized world we live in. Do what you will with this. It's only meant for thought]