If I look into that mirror right now, I won’t see myself. I’ll see whatever it is that I truly want.
If I pull its dusty covers from the reflective glass I will finally be able to see what I desire, so I can pursue its course.

I looked into it once, when I was bored. I looked at what should be my reflection and saw me with a can of lager in each hand, and so I pursued and in the end I passed out on the floor of my boyfriend’s house.

Since that day the mirror has been covered. With my shallow needs and wants and aspirations, the mirror would only show me booze or pizza or a man beneath me, and I already knew those things.

But I think, if I just… pull that cover, there! Yes, I can see what I want and it isn’t surprising.

My hair is long and my eyes are big the same as usual, only the clothes are different. Now the jeans and shirt are a long black robe hemmed in red and fold, the symbol of a lion on my chest, as I stare out of a moving picture with pride split across my face. Only that can make me happy.