Mirror, mirror on the wall

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.

Loving and Yeats poetry

They tell me to speak my truth but I cannot find it anymore. I cannot tell it apart from the lies that I eat, from the ones forced down my throat. I lie through my teeth as I bite into words I want to scream out loud. How do you go back once you have known love?


“We understand how dangerous a mask can be. We all become what we pretend to be.” – Patrick Rothfuss

We have all learnt to hide ourselves, behind thick curtains, not allowing our true selves to peek through. We have all become actors, worthy of the greatest awards. But maybe we have dwelled so much on weaving these intricate masks for the world to see, that we lost track of what about us is real and what is not.