A mirror is control. A fragile sheet protected by reflective armor that attacks its enemies through secret insecurities. The mighty sword stabs and jabs at the little things with grace and precision. Large nose, swipe. Hips that don’t curve out enough, slice. Dark circles and scars and stretch marks, stab. Swipe, slice, and stab until nothing whole is left.

   A mirror is strength. A pool of silver that takes its surroundings and brings it to its knees. It takes the image that it faces and distorts it past recognition, never hesitating to deform what it sees. Its mutilating gaze makes skin crawl and tears fall down freckled cheeks. It never takes mercy and it never surrenders.

   A mirror is my enemy. I have battled her fiercely for years, only beating her recently as I have grown from a girl to a woman. A squire to a knight, now knowing the truth behind the mirror’s striking blows. A mirror does not reflect the whole, just what it wants you to see, but now I can start to see more. I see strong legs that allow me to go running in the morning. I see freckles from days spent out in the sun with friends and family. I see lips that tell witty jokes and answer tough questions. I am learning to see everything that I am able to do with the body that I care for every day. I am not just a reflection. I am me.