The mirrors choice

The Mirror’s Truth I stand in front of the mirror, and it shows me— but not really. The left is right, the right is left, a quiet trick my eyes have always known. I fix my hair, adjust the strands just how I like them. Not for the world—just for me. But when I step away, that version of me stays behind, trapped in glass, while the world sees something else. They see the "real" me, the one I don’t recognize, the one I don’t shape. Their eyes decide, their words mold, but it’s never the version I like best. Two choices— live as the reflection I love, or as the reality they expect. So I choose, left instead of right, my own small rebellion, because even if they see it different, I know what's real to me. My hair is my life, and life is mine to shape.