A Warped Mirror Image

Look at me. Survey my face. See anything unusual? No, I thought not. Look into the eyes then. What do you see there? Do not lie to please me; I want only the truth. Death? Hope? Anger? Nothing? Ah, then it is true. I was not expecting much else, for I have looked at myself almost for an eternity - and seen nothing there. I, who am incapable of feeling, cannot make people see what is not there. And there is nothing there for you to see.

I have been told that my eyes are like what might remain of the end of the world - a black hole, endless, empty. I have been told that I draw everything in and allow nothing to escape. Is that to be a surprise? After all, I have seen the end of the world. I see it yet, and likely will be there to see it. You cannot see past me, through me. Yet I remain intangible. Here, touch my hand. How is it? Cold, but not actually there. You can see it and feel its cold, but you cannot seem to grasp it. That is how I am. I, however, can feel you and your burning warmth that threatens to melt my ice. Is that what human warmth is like? Because I have forgotten.

I see you want to hear my story. Why, what is there to tell? My life has barely been lived, and what has happened I do not remember. I only watch passively, not caring about what happens. To break me, you will have to drain all the lakes and ponds and oceans in the world. We all know that that is not possible, so why should I worry? The entire human race could become extinct and I doubt it would affect me. And what does not affect me, I do not notice.

What am I? Do you not know? I am that which shares your form but not your thoughts. No, I do not think. I know, for I have watched out of my window ever since the world began. I know all there is to know about the great lizards. Perhaps not in what you would call a scientific sense, granted, but enough. They have spoken to me and I have spoken back with the exact same words in the exact same tongue. I know the French Revolution. The Queen of England herself I know by heart. I do not remember dates, for they mean nothing to me, but that does not change the fact that I know. And I know you.

How many sins have you committed in your life? I know them all. Every time you stop to check your hair, you make a confession. Every time you dab your cheeks with rouge, I know why. Even when your brush your teeth, I notice the number of cavities in your mouth. I cannot help it, and you cannot stop me.

What am I, you ask, to possess this power of discernment? I cannot laugh when you are looking serious, or I would. For all I know, I am merely a shadow upon the earth, taken for granted by most.

I am the side of you trapped in the mirror.