Mystery Note

“I and this mystery, here we stand.”

As I peer into my own eyes, I can’t help but to wonder. Who is this person standing before me? 

Surely it is my own reflection, but what lies on the inside? Who is really beneath the caramel skin that wraps itself around my flesh? A constant question of who, and what. I piece myself together with fragments of others. My mothers eyes, my fathers nose. My sisters' wit, my brother's humor. I base myself off of what I see in others. 

What I don’t like, I don’t intake. What I do, I bend and twist it. Turning it into my own. I look for the positivity, and love that resides behind peoples eyes. I look for the fluid movement in peoples bodies, I read their energies based on body language. We are just as much of others as we are ourselves. We look at society through newborn eyes and watch as they age with what we see.

 I criticize what I don’t want to be, but does that make me any better? I can talk down on the elements that make other people, and someone could do the same to me. The people around me are fragments of others, who are fragments of others, and so on. So who am I to judge the pieces they choose to take, when I have also chosen my own? 

As I look at my reflection, the mystery of myself and humanity clouds my thoughts, leaving me with more questions than answers. I wonder if I'll ever truly figure out the mystery of myself.