The mirror across the room isn’t completely broken although you can see the cracks of it. What reflects back to me is not quite familiar, not quite strange. It still does the job you expect it to, it just isn’t the same as it used to be. The shattered glass shows me for who I am, hoping the broken pieces will stay together long enough that no one notices it has been broken on purpose. Sometimes I just stare at the beauty of the pain that reflects within the mirror, the pains I’ve been through myself. Conceptualising life hasn’t been the same since. The cracked lines fragmenting and contorting the state of the original image. It seems larger in size each time I glance at it from this perspective. My shyness and shame in the formation of the broken parts of the glass, draw my attention to another glass object within my room. An hourglass sits on a shelf. The sand slowly shifts through the middle gap between each half. Each grain plays an important role in the others shifting above themselves. Nothing stays in the same place. The grain falls gracefully and is immediately replaced by more of the same.
The hourglass and the mirror remind me that nothing stays constant in their appearance. Sometimes the version of myself amongst those that reflect my face are different from each other. Like Jekyll and Hyde transforming while deriving from the same source material.
The Main Character 
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