I see my reflection through a most
disturbing object: a pair of men’s eyes.
These noxious and deceiving things
have superseded mirrors, and in addition to my less than expected reflection
bring with them disturbing realizations. It is only through male perception
that I conceptualize myself; they suggest my beauty, my intelligence, my ability
to love, my self-worth. Without them, perhaps I don’t exist. And without this
notion, if only I could rid myself of it, I may be able to live a semblance of a fulfilled life.