The mirror stares me down with a face I don’t remember, the face of a disguise, all hidden but my eyes. The mirror stares me down, tries to tell me who I’ve been. They say that it tells lies. They say it’s in my mind.

My mind knows every detail, every part of who I am. The versions of myself that I’ve drawn across my hand. But I don’t know my mind. Or what’s left of it to find—the tattered fabric of my soul, I’ve left in days of old.

Looking at my face, the memories aren’t real. Memories of staring through the things I used to feel. Now I hide from mirrors, mirrors on the walls. But your eyes are mirrors too, and I can’t hide from them, I fall.