Mirror's side.

Literally my mirror.
Two in fact.

I love both your everything.
Somehow that kid looking up at the both of you,
in awe, in amazement.
In all that's just awesome.

Every flaw, every imperfection, just happen to be there so perfectly.
"It's your imperfections that make you perfect."

Cranky, grumpy, miserable.
...it's your smile that makes me know that you need me.
...it's the truth in your eyes that tells me you'll never leave me.
...the touch of your hands let's me know that you'll catch me.
If mirrors are what you see yourself as inside the other side,
...it is when I'm on the verge of breaking down and it's you there to catch me.
...it's when everyone in the world labels me that you're there, not leaving my side.
...it's when I cry that I know you'll be there to make it all better; turn my frown around.
Depressed, emo, pessimist.

Often you tell your child that you're just telling her about the philosophies and it is a choice to listen or not.
It is the child who knows her daddy too well that overthinks, overestimate, overly try to understand.
It hurts to feel like you're being pushed away by your mirror,
like how magnets of the same poles bounce off each other.

But I will try.

I'm not perfect, but I keep trying
'Cause that's what I said I would do from the start
I'm not alive if I'm lonely, so please don't leave
Was it something I said or just my personality?


You now, my mirror, my life.