The Woman Behind My Eyes

I hear the click clack of my heels across the pavement. I see my hair whipping around my face. I see the gracefulness of my shadow leading me across the courtyard and I realize how glamorous she must look to an outsider. This woman behind my eyes with the confident stroll, the billowing hair and put together look. There must be a reason why when using my eyes I can only see my feet, my legs, my hands, my hair and a tiny bit of my nose.

 God must have known the trouble our eyes would cause. Because we can't see the things that cause us grief without assistance. I can't see my too big nose, my imperfect smile, my disproportionate earlobes or my misshapen eyes themselves. Only with a mirror can I see my imperfections. My lifelong arch enemy the mirror! I knew I disliked you from the moment I met you as a child. Even my innocence of not knowing my reflection was not another person, I knew you weren’t right!

So I started thinking. Why can't I be the woman behind my eyes? Why can't I be graceful, beautiful and confident? The woman behind my eyes is smart and funny, full of happiness and life. She is calm, well-dressed and breathtaking. She's the woman strolling across a courtyard in long beautiful step's hair billowing behind her with not a care in the world. She's the woman whose quick clacking heels are drawing attention as others smile because her hair billowing in the wind looks like something off a magazine.

Unfortunately I am not that woman there behind my eyes. I am the woman who stays in the mirror X-ing out everything she doesn't want to see. I'm the woman whose quick clacking heels across the courtyard draw attention that makes her nervous. The woman whose long strides are not poised for grace but to be hasty so that I may get out of the spotlight quickly. I wish I could be the woman behind my eyes so that the stares and complements I'm receiving would not make me ashamed but proud. So they could feel deserved or justified. I wish I could make the woman behind my eyes instill confidence in the woman inside my heart. Because the woman inside my heart does not feel deserving or worthy of any praises or accolades. She is insecure; broken by scar tissue. She has lost her sense of self-worth. If only I could make her into a woman that lies behind my eyes I could make me happy.

So I am going to try & reverse psychology the women outside my eyes. She is going to pretend to see the woman behind my eyes & then maybe she will pretend long enough she will believe.