ramblings by emma, doodles by india
That moment of disparity. You could be stumbling home drunk, waking up in the morning, or in the middle of brushing your teeth. You look at yourself in the mirror in your bathroom like you have done a million days before. But suddenly your mind is a whirl. You realize in a fraction of a second how much you have shifted, what features have changed, how you look slightly off, and your eyes look wide, and you are staring at this person you have known your whole life but somehow you don’t recognize. There is a new freckle there, and a scar fading into the distance there. Hair is a bit longer, and your skins texture feels more elastic than you remember. And you think, this is me, and this is the only me, and this is how I look. This is how I appear to other people. This is the case that holds me inside and moves me throughout my day. You look down at your hands and you can stretch out your finger tips and move them, but they feel far away, distant, and foreign. Like you are operating someone else’s hands with a remote control. This sinking sensation of disconnect is swirling around you and the person you see is not, nor will ever be exactly the person you feel you are. It will never be a visual representation of your soul. The thoughts settle, you splash cold water on your face, avert your gaze from the mirror and move your legs out of the bathroom, and the feeling passes.