One day, the mirror...

told me who I was. It stopped, stared, looked me in the eye, and faked half a smile. Then it told me who I was. Except that isn't me. I'm different than that, a little less stereotypical. I try to convince myself that the mirror is wrong and that the real me is more genuine, more loving, less cynical, less angry, perhaps more muscular, and a little cleaner kept. Then I realize the mirror isn't lying. Sure, it doesn't know who I am, but then again, sometimes I wonder if I even do. All I know is...