Note: This is the ambitious beginning of a daily response to a daily writing prompt. This comes from the Editors of our very own WordPress.
When I look in the mirror, I initially don’t pay it any mind. It is the morning, and I have to get ready for work. The mirror confirms that I have not turned green or grown an extra head, but other than that, it is not functional at the time. Who really wants to see what they look like first thing in the morning? The day goes by and it becomes time to heed the call of nature. Then, I look in the mirror again and confirm that I am still not green, and I am not crying or scowling the scowl of death. Teaching high school is never boring. At night, I become more contemplative and self aware, and so does the mirror. Now, I see a face with distinct features and a body that is a product of the support of food, sleep, and good faith and the distress of time, aggravation, and pain. I am big; I am small. I am attractive; I am tired and haunted. My body will propel me through the coming future like a resilient spring, shining and quivering. A mirror is so flat in itself. It is a curio, a toy, nothing more. It is a game for little children who do not yet know who they are. But us adults, we don’t need mirrors. We look out. That person is doing that thing wrong. That other person is doing that other thing wrong. Those people over there are almost as stupid as these people over here. A mirror becomes a trap, a stun gun of revelation. We so readily feed on the lives of others: Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, Twitter. Fingers fly across keyboards along with silent camera bursts and shutters. Why would we want to look at ourselves when there is so much to feed on? When I look in the mirror, I see someone standing on the other side. I wonder what that side is like.