Blue eyes
It’s Thursday night. I just finished watching some Olympic sports I didn’t even know existed half an hour ago. Now, I am on my way to bed, with only brushing my teeth separating me from sleeping. But, as I walk to the bathroom, I pass the big mirror hanging in the hallway.
I walk by this mirror countless times a day, yet something makes me stand still. Something compels me to turn my head. Slowly, I look to the left and pause. In front of me, I see my own blue eyes. And something feels different.
The late summer sun casts a warm glow on my face. I gaze into my own eyes, then look up to my receding hairline, down to the beard I have recently decided to grow, and to the nose that has endured multiple breaks. The light is magical, bathing everything in a mystical orange hue, creating a dance of shadows on my face. My blue eyes shine brighter than usual, and for some reason, I can’t stop looking.
Usually, when I catch my reflection — whether in shop windows, car reflections, or bathroom mirrors — I feel an urge to change something. A hand through my hair, straightening my back, adjusting my clothes. Always striving to perfect the way I look. But now? Standing there, facing myself? Nothing. Just calmness. No urge to change a thing.
It’s almost as if I am seeing myself for the first time in years. It’s as if I have forgotten who I am.
I am not just seeing me; I am seeing all the layers beneath. I see the scared kid who longs to be liked and appreciated. I see the part that craves adventure, yet is held back by the fear of failure and the unknown.
I recognize the insecure parts — worrying about my appearance and ageing. I see the parts of me that yearn for deep, intimate conversations, to be completely open and vulnerable, but fear the commitment at the same time. I see them all — my blend of contradictions, fears, and desires — standing there in my hallway, lost in the moment. Losing my sense of time.
It’s as if I am gazing at someone else. If these eyes are not my eyes. These eyes — craving attention — desiring to be seen. Within them a mix of sadness and relief, as if they’re saying, “Finally, finally you see us. We are so tired. Tired of seeking love, approval and belonging. Tired of seeking acceptance. Tired of the constant stress. The worries about how we look, perfection, failure, seeking validation from others, because we forgot how to give it to ourselves.”
I pause. I see you. I nod and agree. He is right. Of course, I know he is right. I sigh. I remember he is me. I smile. It’s okay. There is no need to strive. There’s nothing to improve. There’s nothing to change. It’s all right.
We smile.