Someone is looking back at me, and often I look away. I do not revel in the person I see, nor have I ever. They have always been someone I’ve disliked, even if people tell me otherwise. I try to look at them with kind eyes, but too often is it sadness, or disgust, or something akin to anger, frustration. There is no beauty there, no softness or reflection of what I had come to know as beauty. I had seen many a beautiful people, even people who looked like me, surprised that the handsomeness I saw in them I very rarely saw looking back in the mirror. It is not fair, I often think, that I was conditioned to see in others what I wish I could see in myself. I have tried looking in the mirror with thoughtful, open mindedness, a facade where I tell myself that what I am looking at is not a monster. They are not someone to fear, or dislike, they are not someone unworthy of what anyone else might be worthy of. They are worthy of that same thing, regardless of what they may be lacking. And yet, everyday is spent avoiding the gaze, looking away or not looking at all, if I can help it. Odd days out in public, at a restroom or strip mall, caught sideways and unprepared in a mirror, instantly looking away so as to not perceive myself. And, in turn, hope no one else will as well. Despite these things, there is still faith in my heart that I will one day accept that who I am is good enough, and that regardless of what anyone else might think, especially myself, I am deserving of a kind gaze. One without ulterior motive. That one day, when I look in the mirror, I will smile real and true at the reflection, and it will smile back and the action will be honest of us both.