Girl in the Mirror

by Portia Uwase Zuba | Mar 26, 2017

You are kind to me now, not at best nice to me and at worst indifferent to me.

You are seeing me not looking at me

You are conversing with me not talking at me

I am recognized now

Not another faceless person in a faceless crowd.

It is all surreal.

Overwhelmed by the praise, I get drunk on it

Stunned by the compliments, I fish for them

Dazed by my own social presence, I am suprised I am willing to do anything to maintain it

Heck, if I have to be a sycophant then by all means I shall be.


Won’t bits of me die a slow painful death as I aim for the crown of social glory?

Won’t I miss my love-hate relationship with my flaws?

Won’t my growth as a searching inconsequential part of the universe be stunted?

Am I going to be another singer’s lyric, another poet’s rhyme, another colleague’s rant, and GOD FORBID another phony?

Or will I go back to the basics:

Enjoy the simple pleasures of being me

My independence, my ill sense of humor, my Zen nature? Will I regain my curiosity?

Will I try to find the voice I lost on my quest to conquer?

For my sanity, I choose the latter!!