is random
sometimes i wonder what its like to be a mirror. imagine all the things that it has reflected in its existance, from the things in the factory where it is made, to the shipping to the stores, to the women who look at themselves in the stores, to the intimate relationship it gets with its owner, the exlusive reflections it gives, the same 10 feet or so it reflects when hung that it keeps in it until it is moved. the faces, the emotions, the feelings, the important events it has reflected. sitting there suspended in life, only mirroring life, stealing it, but not having any depth to it, not real effect on things. it can take things, but it can never be anything but something else. and yet it is the one thing that humans bare their soul to, that they reveal their insecurities to. it is like it is their best friend, or even more than that, it is themselves, because it is merely a reflection of themselves. i sometimes think about what all a mirror has seen, but never told anyone.