I Used to Feel Home

I look at her and she looks just like me. However, she is different from the “Self” I used to be. She has my eyes but the reflection is showing me a whole another world— her gaze is like an aftermath of a disaster. We share the same skin but with different shapes and spaces; hers are more pale and empty. I hate looking at her. She reminds me of strange lands where everything is a mystery. Not that I don’t like mystery but things are different when you are not the mystery itself. I feel like I am playing hide and seek with her. Sometimes, she plays dirty with me. She hides inside places I don’t want to go to. She pushes me to do things perfectly, whereas, I am not perfect.
I look at her every time I want to remember who I was; and I hate that feeling. It makes me feel small and limited. And, when I want to start over I find myself running inside of a vicious circle— Always going back to the end. Every inch of my soul is occupied by her finger prints; a sign of a homicide— I hear her everyday whispering to me “Here lays the soul of your old self, an ancient spirit who died with an overdose of time. May she rest in the darkness!” The ticking of the clock is echoing inside my head, my vision is blur and I feel… Well I don’t feel. I think, I lost it again.
“Eva, do you hear?” a distant female voice says, “Eva, snap out of it!” the same voice ordered. I try to focus for a moment. I close my eyes and open them again. I look around me for a second and I remember that I am at my shrink’s office. I look at her and she looks at me. We don’t say anything.
“Would you look again at yourself in the mirror and tell me…”
“What do I feel!” I interrupt, “No, what do you think.” She states.
 I hesitate for a moment and, then I turn my head slowly. The body is mine but not the soul and it makes me feel homesick.
“I used to feel home when I look at myself.” I whisper, still looking at my/her reflection on the mirror.

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