My Life On Postcards


Dear Eva, This morning when I was looking into the mirror, I saw myself seeing myself. I went a bit closer, just to make sure it's me and not someone else. I appeared passive, two dimensional. Water was dripping from my eyebrows blurring my vision. Suddenly I wasn't sure whether I was the one looking or the one being looked at. I was a stranger to myself, someone I recognised but couldn't make sense of. Just like when I listen to my recorded voice. I'll never get used to it and I'll never be able to adjectively tell anyone about it, not even myself. It's as if we have a mechanism preventing us from getting too close to our selves. Unless, of course, you are a narcissist.