I watch myself from afar, curious, and write notes.

 

“To the flower girl, who drinks her soda with a straw that she holds between two fingers, like a cigarette.”

 

“To the girl with a scar in the shape of a crescent moon on her back where she can't see.”

 

“To the girl with dark brown eyes in a sea of blue.”

 

“To the girl with paint on her knuckles and in her fingernails, who pulls a hat over her eyes.”

 

“To the girl with blue ink on her palms and handwriting impossible to read.”

 

How is this girl across the room the same one I see in the mirror each morning?

For the girl in the mirror has scars that have crawled up her cheeks and forehead

Eyes too small and tired to be seen, and a nose that takes up more than it's share of the face

But this other girl, that I observe observing me

Smiles brightly, shyly, kindly

Reads with a passion, and leaves sticky note reviews on the inside cover for the next person

Opens her mouth wide to laugh as her eyes crinkle

Doodles adventures in the blank spaces of her planner

This girl is not a stranger to any of us

We all know her by the same name, face, voice

And yet none of us have seen her at the same angle as another

One sees the blemishes, one sees the freckles, and one sees the uncharted constellations across her skin

I wander from their points of view and return to looking in the mirror, shocked

For how would you react upon learning that where you have seen naturally red skin,

Others have seen a normal blush?

Or in the lumped and static mess of hair,

Someone has seen the sunlight reflect off gold in your bangs?

In your crooked and discolored teeth

They have only seen the brightness of your smile

You see, an artist, when staring at his campus, may only see the mistakes in his work

Both those who view it for the first time and then after, can see nothing but it's beauty

Which is why they come back, time and time again

I suppose the girl in my mirror has been stared at for too long from the perspective of her artist

and not enough from the perspective of a bystander

So I've had to ask myself,

“Through whom am I looking?”