I sit down, and look into the mirror; the person staring back at me is someone familiar, but is almost always locked away lest someone might hate me or my true personality cause me trouble with other people.

The girl I see is someone who knows most of the answers, but is forced to keep them in; she doesn’t let her exuberance flow so others will not become a daily torture in her life.

The girl I see is someone who doesn’t trust any longer, and is wary of who she comes in contact with.

When I look into her hazel eyes, they might be gleaming with tears, or just simply glaring out at me.

She comes out when I write, she comes out when I’m angry; I can’t help it. She is me.

Maybe, one day, I’ll have enough courage to shed my protective shell, and go all out.

I wonder if people will accept me, or her. Whichever it is, they’ll be liking the same person.