Me & Mirrors

A short Essay (needs major reconstructional surgery, heavy headed, cluttered attempt for now)

Inquisitively, while growing up I often peered into those greasy, dusty mirrors. They had a habit of conjuring themselves up around me, whenever they pleased, which by some queer coincidence was when I was quite displeased.

I walked along engrossed in the view, mostly shocked by the persistent mindless impositions to enforce order which was always losing to the entropic nature of this world & then later pleased because I could rear-view this unnatural practise, tossing it out in my stride. Sidestepping unsuccessfully since more often than not I was baffled by the irrational behaviour displayed by selfish people who turned selfless for purely selfish reasons. Almost stopping each time to shock-jolt those nose-bridges, wheeezing maybe a foot or so atop a well-tailored suit which selflessly spoke from their high perches, to scrounging people about values, they meant ‘Vail’ Use.

Yes whenever I chanced upon their glittering giving nature, I merrily arranged them into a nice kaleidoscope, which made me see myriad colours, I’d call that love for the lack of any better word, but since bad luck is more ubiquitous than good luck I was left marooned & irked by the inverted images of the institutions which held them flocked together. They did so wonderfully well by keeping them apart from their own self & what is most dear to them. Can’t put a finger to when, but I got used to seeing the world through those mirrors.  

Maybe all this happened since I was too obsessed with self from as long as I can remember, and then something mirroring it, coupling the effect, was something of a natural progression, since it amplified who I think I was or I am.

Before I could sign off this note, I thought that a mirror should reflect what you are, but then whenever someone has held out that mirror for me it has always shown me what I am not. I stop & then I walk.