Looking at my reflection too much.
Sitting in the back seat of the
car and gazing at myself
in the rear view mirror.
My dad tells me that I look fine
and to stop staring at myself
while he’s driving.
I reapply my lipstick, watch myself
do it in the black
screen of my iPhone.
Someone on this bus thinks I’m
the most conceited person who has
ever lived.
I bite my lips while my professor
is talking,
imagine giving him a handjob during
his office hours while he tells
me how pretty I am.
I’m in the reflection of his glasses,
of the laptop on his desk, of the
shiny gold band around his finger.
He’s not even looking.
A funhouse mirror.
My body a lava lamp of ugly shapes.
Everyone laughs at the one that
makes their stomachs stretch.
I laugh at the one that makes me
look like a lamp post.
The stranger next to me has hair
down to her hips and I can’t
see anything except for her earth body
and my little streetlight one.
We turn away from the
mirror and I snap back into
the globe of myself, thinking
‘Who could hold the whole world?
Who would even want to?’
I’d let her touch me, if she asked.
I’d live in the funhouse
if it meant I could be small
enough for her to wrap her arms around.
Her eyes, mirrors. I’m a panoramic
in the gloss of them.
She’s looking right at me.
Caitlyn Siehl, Mirrors (via alonesomes)
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-Eres una loca de mierda.
-Y tú eres un cobarde.
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Joel: I can’t see anything that I don’t like about you.
Clementine: But you will! But you will. You know, you will think of things. And I’ll get bored with you and feel trapped because that’s what happens with me.
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, 2004 (dir. Michel Gondry)
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