I awoke to discover a missing person. This discovery was not made by an amber alert, an announcement on the news, or even a flyer freezing away as the lost soul began to fade into the noise and became overpowered by something more recent, more relevant.
The discovery was made when I passed by a reflective surface and did not recognize the person staring back at me. Who was it that I saw in the mirror? Whoever it was, it was not the self I had come to know. Where had I gone? What had happened? I did not know.
I became frightened and began desperately searching the streets, chasing my own shadow to where I was convinced I was hiding. Every mirror I passed I stopped and looked longing to see myself staring back at me but I was disappointed time and again.
This looking glass did not faithfully reflect my soul. It did not prove worthy to reflect the depths of my psyche. It must be broken, it must be lying. I started to question my own sanity as time passed for the fear of losing myself and the thought of forgetting myself began to overwhelm my being. I panicked. Anxiety overtook. My hands began to shake, the world looked unfamiliar and began to blur together.
As I looked in the mirror I asked the person staring back at me “Who am I?” but no response was given. I stepped closer, my voice raising “Who are you?” and still, no answer. ” Where did you come from?” I said as my voice began to tremble and my eyes began to water, covering the pores of my cheek, drowning them in sadness. “Who am I?” I finally said with my hands pressed up against the mirror, my voice raised, cracking and pleading for an answer.
I became overwhelmed with the idea that the mirror had stolen my true reflection, my soul and had replaced it with the soul of another. I feared I would become no one if I could not find my soul and reunite it with the body I was born into. I feared my memories, my life and my being would slip away into the void without my own reflection stitched into this body. I feared I would disappear.
That led my thoughts to travel to the origins of the mirror. What was a mirror? Where did it come from? What was the story? Everything has a story. In the search for my own soul, I would have to dive into the past and discover the story of the creation of the mirror.
And so my frantic search began. My pilgrimage to discovery and understanding of the self, myself and the mirror began and I was immersed in the legend of the origins of the mirror. My journey, to reunite the broken parts of myself that had escaped me and gone missing without my awareness, began the moment I failed to recognize myself.