if it weren’t for my sliding mirror closet doors, my room would look much darker with only one lamp turned out.
that’s what i’m thinking about at 12:11am when i can’t sleep and have to work the morning shift.
dozens of friends have come and gone through my room, marveling at the 80s design and dusty gold colored edging that doesn’t match the accompanying oak trim along the walls in my house. they stare and stare at their reflections, our reflections. take pictures, post them on social media. watch the comments rake in. is this what we’ve come to?
i switched where my bed is in my room so that i don’t have to look into the mirror as i fall asleep; it felt too narcissistic and depressing. now i have my bookshelf in front of me and the little lamp that jumps off the mirror next to me. i have my fan blowing and my window open to the late autumn, early winter night air that i love.
i take deep breaths out of sight from the sliding doors that keep clothes i hardly ever wear safe. i sleep without it’s stare focused on me. i sleep without you on me, around me. i close my eyes, see the stars there, and sleep.
