Manqué in the Mirror
“Imposter!” she shrieks silently shaking
with a startling violence. I step back.
She glares so intently, I see the whites
of her eyes, striking against the red flush
of just ire and judgement staining her face.
I stand, stalled in mid-step, shielding myself.
“I-I-I,” I start to stutter. The fear
stealing my breath as I struggle to face
her, now a manqué woman in the storm.
All raging, swirling, emanating from
this familiar figure. I feel
it again skittering across my skin.
“I-I-I,” she mimics, mocking, mining
my core leaving me shivering. Heartbeat
roaring red torrents on remote shores of
reason. I cling, choking breath after breath.
The world wavers as salt water breaks free.
And yet I am unyielding. I believe.
I have felt overshadowed, senses doomed
as I have shrank away from the success,
fuelling her fraud fascination – “You will
be found out. Faker!”, scorn slaking her wrath.
I draw myself up, body still shaking.
Facing her, I see her shimmer and dim
a fraction. I glimpse another just seen.
I remember again. I am enough.
I am a super woman, kind and brave.
I say it out loud, holding her gaze now.
I am capable. I earned my success.
I say it out loud, confidence growing.
I remember again. I am enough.
Now she is fearful, a fading vision.
I raise my hand in farewell. She copies.
Realisation reflected in the light.
“Thank you,” I mutter to my frenemy;
a shadow. Another raises her hand.
As I touch the glass, I see my true self.
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