I've always hated mirrors. Hated looking at myself - the spots, the ugly cheekbones, the plain brown eyes and hair that won't behave itself.
But, I guess I've always been attracted to that fairytale side of mirrors.
That magical realism of your reflection talking to you - ever since I was a kid these mystical things were all I could dream about. All I could think about.
It took me a while, but one day I caught myself in the mirror.
Fixing my hair (why do I have a fringe which loves to cover literally half of my face? Like what is its purpose other than to be annoying and look horrendous?), when a question I hadn't thought about for a while popped into my head.
Foregoing the first part, I decided to play to the fairytale mysticism.
-Who's the most beautiful person in the world?
She replied without hesitation - for a second I almost believed her.
But then I laughed, and she laughed too.
-Don't do that.
I grinned even wider.
-You might not be the most beautiful person, but you're not the worst, and you do have some good features about you. In a few years you might even be presentable!
-Probably not. But it's always nice to dream.