Sometimes I love my reflection, other times I hate it.
Sometimes I wished that I loved it more, other times I wished I hate it more.
Most times I don’t even recognize my reflection.
Parts of my life require me to look a certain way, it’s drab and it’s beige.
The world expects to look a certain way, it’s primped and it’s polished.
But somewhere between the world and life’s requirements is what I actually look like. My actual reflection.
It has no rules, no requirements.
It’s not primped and doesn’t have to be polished
It changes with my whims and obsessions.
It has no dress code.