I am the girl in the mirror
a wispy figure that materializes only
when you want me to.

I am nearly translucent
in the harsh fluorescent lights
of the gas station bathroom,
nervously pushing my hair out of my face
in an attempt to conceal my disarray.

You don't see me but that's okay,
because sometimes it's easier
when people don't acknowledge my existence.

It gives me time to mold,
to transform, to craft myself
in the perfect image you want to see.

Lipstick on, hair straight, nails painted, eyelashes curled,
thoughts organized in order of relevance,
anxiety suppressed to give a semblance of normalcy.

But someday,
you're going to turn around,
and instead of me you'll see
a hollow shell existing only to please society.

Will you be happy then?