Photo by Rene Böhmer on Unsplash

The street is crowded with people returning home after a long day of work. We look beyond each other, shoulders brush as we race to make the light at the crosswalk. The noise of the city is deafening. Taxis screeching through traffic, cars honking, voices raised, the whooshing of buses stopping and starting as they make their way through the city. A slight turn of my head just enough to catch a glimpse of my reflection in a store window stops me cold.

In that mili-second, time slows. I can hear my heart beating in my ears. As my eyes lock with the eyes of my reflection, the noise of the city melts away and a powerful silence takes hold. We connect in familiarity yet silently acknowledge that we are not one. I am overcome with feelings of self-betrayal. Who have I become? Shame fills me. Truth follows softly behind beckoning me to it. The eyes in the window are knowing, loving and longing. I look away unable to sustain in the presence of such rawness, for to stay any longer would give rise to truths long buried.

I grip onto myself tightly, turn, and sharply walk on, leaving truth to wait another day. As I race on down the street and am about to step onto the next crosswalk, I glance back at the store window now a half a block a way. I wonder at what point I decided I wasn’t good enough to play me in the role of my own life?

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