Relationships, romantic and platonic alike, raise mirrors.

The surface of the mirror reflects the other, a standard to measure myself against. And in that mirror I see the texture of her features in opposition to mine. I easily see everything in the mirror that I am not. And so like a relief carved in flesh, my imperfections stick out, projected by the other, visible for me to see.

As the relationship intensifies, the features sharpen and clarify.

It is a hard thing to do, facing mirrors.