No lies? No lies.

I hate these goddamn mirrors.

When I look into them, I do not smile. In fact, I would avoid looking at my own reflection because I feel ashamed of myself. I am not sure if I am still entitled to a smile after everything that has happened and what I have done. Actually, I smile but only while I am crying! I have always blamed myself for everything that has and will go wrong; this is a very familiar, common emotion that practically encompasses me as time and days fly.

 

I have never experienced being genuinely happy or secure, regardless of the fact that my friends provide me with the best treatment I have ever received. In all honesty, I never asked them to do such things, okay? My closest friends understand everything about me and how I feel almost all the time we get together. They recognize if I need alone time, a hug, or to study. We communicate by feeling each other, but I get sick of it as my feelings and actions rarely coincide. I am not a big talker when I am with my girls; I would rather sit in a corner and hear them talk regarding their cats since I do not have one.

Okay, back to the mirrors. I like to see myself cry because it allows me to be real to myself and smile. Interestingly, I am not seeing myself crying as often. Maybe because I am also conversing with someone who refuses to let me be alone. Oh my god, am I now talking about a man?

Well… here’s the catch: I have seen a lot of men the past year, even made one of them my boyfriend (now ex), but all roads come back to him.

... all roads lead back to him. 

Two years ago, I had a brief talk with an individual whom my friend characterizes as really kind and welcoming. Oh, hell, I am very certain that he is very sympathetic as he is pretty soft-spoken towards me. Yes, we are already talking. Two years in the making. 

As we interact, I catch myself doing and expressing something that I normally do not show to others. I rarely speak about my family, favorite shows and movies, dogs, etc. frequently. I would prefer to separate myself from those people who push themselves to get to know me since, I do not know! Perhaps, it is the introvert in me. But this guy had me talking which never made me feel uncomfortable for the very first time. When I talk to him, I get a feeling of comfort. This guy offers me that I can vent to him if matters get a bit overwhelming. 

Two years ago, I was just a kid. Now, I am a grown woman. Talking to him made me feel like I have already caught up with the childhood I never got to experience; it feels so nice to feel like a little kid again.

I still do not know him very well, but it feels like we have known each other for years.

When I talk to or about him in front of the mirror, I smile. And every time it happens, my eyes would widen and I would remind myself, "It wasn't me! It was Patricia!"

But I know that I have been lying in the mirrors. Even if I drink now, and with my low alcohol tolerance, I know I would be untrue if I pretended that the only source of my smiles is not a man.

So, mirror, mirror on the wall, here's the truth: I am kind of happy.

No lies.