I've had the pleasure of watching you from afar for the past 18 years and I have something to say. I love you. In fact, I am completely infatuated with you. Seriously, I cannot help but stare through the glass and see this beautiful woman, that I've watched grow up and laugh, because it's tragically ironic that you cannot see what I see. So I'm going to tell you now, as best I can, how it looks on the other side of the glass.
Everyday I see how you cover up; with clothes or makeup or the way you cross your arms over your stomach. And everyday I ask myself why? Why is the most beautiful woman trying to hide herself? Why does she cover the redness and fullness of the cheeks I would so love to caress? Why does she pack lipstick onto the lips I would sell my soul to kiss? Why does she brush mascara through the eyelashes that seem to flutter like an angels wings and call out to me to sit back and observe because you must be my angel? Why does she burn her hair to make it match the other girls when I love to see it blow freely in the wind on the days on which you did not have time to perfectly straighten it? Why does she keep her hand by her side when I can tell by her eyes that she knows the answer but she would rather listen to it scream in her mind than have anyone’s eyes on her for more than a moment? Why am I the only one to see the real you? The untouched, imperfect but somehow also perfect you. The you that no one else gets the pleasure of seeing, the you that I can only be trusted with because I appreciate all of it. Even if you won’t.
Your mind is a mosaic of thoughts much to large for the many to understand, including myself but you do love a tryer and I will try all night to decipher your words as you stare up at the night sky, wondering about a god when you are the only goddess in my eyes.
I see a tinge of sadness in those blue eyes of yours and although you say you are over it there’s something about your lack of fingernails that leads me to believe otherwise although you would never let it show, because you were brought up to think that strong was emotionless but darling please, you are the strongest woman on this green earth and you need to let it out. You need to nourish the plants with your tears as I rub your back and try to make you feel better but all I can do is curse the man that could never comprehend your worth. Honey, your words are your power so stop holding it back and tell the world what you’ve been through, I promise we won’t bite.
So Niamh, when you lay your head down to rest tonight and ponder your next philosophical dilemma, remember that I love you. I love all of you from the tips of your toes to the top of your scalp. Treat yourself with kindness or I’ll be having words.
The girl in the mirror.