Living in this house is a strange thing. I walk
through the rooms and see only the world around
me, not my own face reflected back. There are no
mirrors here. I can't check my appearance or see
the faint scars on my wrist. I can't catch a glimpse
of myself in a hallway, and I can't look in the
bathroom to see if I'm still me.
At first, it was jarring. I felt like a ghost, an
observer without a physical form. But now, it's a
kind of peace. I can't be judged by my reflection, so
I'm free to just exist. I don't have to confront the
person I see in the glass, the tired eyes, the faint
lines of worry. In this house, I can be whoever I am
in my mind, without the constant reminder of who I
am on the outside.