We are reflections of so many things; how we dress, how we talk, our family, our schooling, our politics, our jobs, our accents, the car we drive, the music we listen to. We are lumped and categorized and labeled until perhaps we believe the label ourselves, no matter if somewhere inside, we know it is the wrong one. We become what others imagine us to be.
Our egos and self identities are fragile systems. They are held together with tape and glue and string and all it takes is for one person to comment on your dress, your hair, your project or your attitude in general - just one person, one tiny comment - and it all breaks apart so easily. Then you stand in front of a dirty mirror, stripped naked and sobbing, wondering what it is that people see in you anyhow. Wondering if anyone really sees what’s in there or if they are just scratching your surface and being content with that. Wondering if you can keep up with the image others have set for you, knowing full well that most of that image is kept up with smoke and mirrors and something up your sleeve.
Our reflections, our self portraits always leave out the most important parts of us. So people rarely get to see who we really are. And then we believe ourselves to be only what others see.
We are the products of shifting mirrors and manipulated portraits.
We are our own inventions as much as we are the invention of others.
Which invention you believe to be real determines what you see when you look in that mirror.
When does it happen that you believe enough in your own vision of yourself so you don’t see someone else’s invention staring back at you?
When. If ever.