The mirror was cracked.
It had always been cracked.
I never thought it made a difference as I carefully painted my face each morning, turning my head every which way to check all sides.
I always blamed myself for never looking perfect. I thought I was broken.
But as I passed by a window on the street,
I saw how I truly looked.
It was not me. It was never me.
I was beautiful.
It was the mirror that was broken.
