The Mirror

I stare at him.

“You look tired,” I say.

He glances back with scorn. The Korean death stare penetrates the glass.

“Tired?” he scoffs, “Weak.”

I glare back and mumble something incoherent.

“What was that?” he snaps.

“Nothing…,” I mumble as I pick up my pen. It is weighed down by obligation now. Sleep seems a memory as the importance of responsibility takes over.

“You don’t even do anything! All you do is criticize and make me mad!” I shout.

“…of course, someone has to motivate you,” he says back.


32 thoughts on “The Mirror

  1. Seeing as how my blog is entitled “The Mirror,” I must be entitled to a slice of the tons of advertising revenue that this post will have generated. Please send a certified cheque for my six cents to: Igloo 3, Canada (return postage guaranteed) };-)>


  2. When I look in the mirror I usually say “Your looking old you fat fuck. Christ, you have bags under your eyes and lots of gray body hair. Get your shit together. Pussy”. I know how to get out the door in a positive frame of mind.

    Liked by 1 person

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