outliving my reflection

Outliving my reflection feels stranger every year

Like the mirror stopped updating while my soul kept decaying privately behind the glass

I stare at my face after midnight and see old versions flickering beneath the surface like trapped spirits

The child

The lover

The addict

The artist

All buried alive inside the same exhausted body

Motherfucker I barely recognize myself lately

Not physically

Spiritually

Like I’ve survived too many emotional disasters to remain the same species as before

Like trauma rewrote my nervous system in a language nobody else can fully translate

Bitch the bathroom mirror became a courtroom over time

Every sleepless night another interrogation beneath fluorescent judgment

Eyes bloodshot from cigarettes and memories

Jaw tight from swallowing words I should’ve screamed years ago

Skin pale enough to look moonlit even during daylight

Outliving my reflection

That’s what happens when your inner self dies faster than your body can keep up visually

You start moving through life feeling delayed from your own existence

Like a ghost forced to continue paying rent and answering texts after the funeral already happened internally

I touched the mirror once during a panic attack

Cold glass beneath trembling fingertips

For a second I swore the motherfucker staring back moved slower than me

Like he was trapped underwater while I drowned above the surface instead

Fuck maybe depression bends reality subtly

Makes ordinary rooms feel haunted

Makes silence sound predatory

Makes your own face look unfamiliar after enough lonely nights and unresolved grief accumulate beneath the skin

I remember when mirrors meant vanity instead of confrontation

Back when I smiled naturally in photographs

Back when hope still lived openly inside my posture

Back when I believed becoming older automatically meant becoming healed

Nobody warns you adulthood can just become more sophisticated suffering sometimes

Motherfucker I started avoiding reflective surfaces for a while

Dark storefront windows

Elevator mirrors

Bathroom sinks after parties

Every accidental glimpse felt like catching somebody impersonating me poorly

Because the outside version still looked functional

Still dressed well

Still laughed at the right moments socially

Meanwhile internally I felt spiritually embalmed

Preserved artificially through routine, nicotine, and stubborn biological instinct

Outliving my reflection

Like surviving past the expiration date of your own innocence

Like carrying memories too heavy for the current version of yourself to process cleanly

Like mourning identities nobody else even noticed disappeared quietly along the way

Bitch I saw her recently after years apart

Coffee shop near downtown during heavy rain

She looked softer somehow

Older in a beautiful honest way

Eyes calmer than when we used to destroy each other romantically beneath nightclub lights and emotional immaturity

She smiled carefully and said you still look the same

That sentence shattered something inside me instantly

Because no the fuck I don’t

Not really

Not where it matters most

The version she loved died slowly through abandonment and exhaustion after she left

The trusting version

The emotionally reckless version willing to believe intimacy could actually save broken people from themselves

That motherfucker never made it past those years alive

We talked politely for twenty minutes

Two strangers wearing familiar faces across a tiny wooden table

Rain crawling down the café windows like liquid nostalgia

Every silence between sentences carrying entire cemeteries of unresolved history

She touched my hand briefly before leaving

Warm skin against cold knuckles

And suddenly I remembered exactly who I used to be around her

Open

Hopeful

Terrified but still willing to love loudly despite the risks

Then she walked away into the rain again

And the reflection in the café window looked ancient afterward

Outliving my reflection means carrying ghosts beneath your skin daily

It means smiling in public while privately grieving previous versions of yourself nobody bothered mourning properly

It means watching younger people love fearlessly while knowing exactly how expensive emotional honesty becomes later

Motherfucker I think some souls age faster than bodies

Every heartbreak another decade added invisibly beneath the eyes

Every betrayal another crack spreading through the spirit quietly

Every lonely night another funeral for the person you almost became before life intervened brutally

I got home afterward and stared at the bathroom mirror for a long time

Apartment dark except for city light leaking through blinds

The reflection stared back exhausted

Not evil

Not broken completely

Just deeply unfamiliar

And somewhere inside that silence

I realized maybe healing isn’t becoming who you were before the damage

Maybe it’s learning how to live beside the stranger trauma transformed you into

Maybe survival itself changes people permanently no matter how poetic they try making the aftermath sound in songs

Still hurt though

Still feels wrong waking up inside a face carrying memories your spirit barely survived long enough to tell

Still feels lonely watching your reflection outlive versions of you that deserved better endings than they received

So I turned the bathroom light off eventually

Let darkness erase my outline from the mirror mercifully

And stood there breathing quietly beside my invisible ghosts

Another tired motherfucker trying to coexist with the man staring back from reflective surfaces without fully recognizing him anymore