It's been a while since I've written a piece for Five Sentence Fiction, but I loved this photo, it said so much, I just had to.
She didn’t mind that the mirror reflected her out of focus;
it’s how she felt most days.
She saw the beauty in the frame and felt ashamed that her
reflection didn’t match it, but then a maudlin face didn’t match much.
She felt cut off and isolated, even when she was standing in
a crowd of people she knew.
They all talked to her and interacted with her, but inside
she felt she wasn’t really coming through and showing her true self, like
trying to break through a transparent plastic bubble; she pushed against it,
but it kept flinging her back.
She touched her fuzzy hand, to her fuzzy face, and knew she
did exist, but pondered how she could really make herself feel heard and seen –
longing to be defined and crystal clear, so no-one misunderstood her.
I did one this week too, though haven't for a while! Nice piece of reflection Miranda, it's not hard to feel this way...
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