I look to the mirror and the reflection is starting to resemble a symbol of health. I’m starting to recognise the guy looking back and in fact, I’m starting to like him. I’m alone, but that doesn’t instill fear. That’s probably because I’m not really alone in a literal sense. But this person who I am is only the half exposed me, so half of me is kept safe, hidden in a safe. I imagine the words spilling from my mouth, the words that’ll expose me in a larger percentage than half. I envisage the reactions to be of confusion. It’s strange, I don’t want to put that on my family. My friends probably wouldn’t care too much, but my family would be estranged to the idea. This is why my life has been at times shrouded in complete mystery; I’ve imagined myself elsewhere, another land, another beach, the birds flap aimlessly against the sea breeze and I view it in slow motion, glare from the sun leaving pixelated soft-glowing dots. But reality strikes and in reality the warmest place I can be is close to my family. They are love.


It’s nice to look in the mirror and smile. And this.. this is just the beginning.


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