Inanimate objects hold duality and the viewer’s perspective highlights the prominent side. The mirror could be a relic of self beauty for some. But, for a few, it could merely be a reflection of what they hate the most. I fall in the latter category, but this isn’t a hateful note oozing with resentment. It is a monologue of sorts. The lack of response hinders me from calling it a conversation.
You write what you like to. You write, taking inspiration from all around you. You write because it’s your hobby. You write to make yourself useful. You write to express who you are, what you are, and how you are. You dream and pen down your fantasies. Your writing does not become yours. You become what your writing is. But what if it all ends? What if you are not able to write again? What if your inspirations turn a blind eye on you? What if you are not able to be you?