It has been more than a decade when I wrote this Mirror, Mirror blogpost. I cringed because of grammatical errors but at the same time in awe because grammatical errors aside, I was able to write this compelling short story. Goosebumps. Time for me to update this, and hopefully will be able to return to this a decade later again to remind me to look in the mirror always. 

(xxx)

“How are you now?” the conscience asks me for the first time after a maelstrom of emotions capsized my inner balance.

I answer, “I’m fine - rusticating in my comfort zone.”

The conscience remarks, “Well and good. I hope you’re enjoying your stay there,” and gives me a strange look. In her eyes, I see an image that resembles an older version of myself.

The woman in the image looks filled with disgust and apathy. She seems more like a machine than a human being.

“Who is she?” I ask, unsettled.

“Didn’t you recognize her?” the conscience replies in disbelief.

“Uh, no?” I answer. “She looks like me, but not quite. She’s older… and she looks hateful. I’m sure that’s not me,” I add, trying to reassure myself.

“I see. Do you want to meet her?” the conscience asks.

“Why would I?” I retort.

“Isn’t it your goal to help troubled people?” the conscience reminds me.

“Oh, right. I almost forgot. Maybe I can help her with something. I would ask her why she looks so hateful and burdened.”

“Hmmm… and maybe I can fix that look by listening to her story,” I add, a bit too eagerly.

The conscience is rummaging through her bag, seemingly not listening to me.

I feel a bit annoyed. It seems dismissive.

I’m about to turn my back and end this nonsense conversation when—

“Aha! I found it,” she exclaims, catching my attention.

Curious, I step closer. She pulls out a mirror from her bag and shows it to me.

My mouth opens, but no sound comes out.

Then I remember.

I haven’t looked in the mirror for years.

(xxx)