It’s 3 AM. I am shuffling my way down the hallway holding my shoes in one hand and in the other, a McDonalds' sweet tea. My friends unlock my door, walk me inside and begin to prepare me for bed, for I am unable to do so by myself. They attempt to undress me and put new clothes on my body when in the corner of my eye, the mirror catches my attention.

I stumble closer, almost having my nose smoosh up against it. I zone out. I can tell my friends are talking but I don’t hear them. I see someone in the mirror. I looked the person in the eye and thought of the sun, and how, in a way, it watches over all of us, allowing us to see, yet not letting us look back at it. It’s so beautiful, and generous, and bright that you physically can't look at it. These eyes weren’t the sun, that’s for sure. They were brown, and wide and covered in black goop. Mistakenly ugly but somewhat satisfyingly unique enough to be beautiful. I question what the person thinks of my eyes, and wonder if they are as harsh.

I moved my eyes away, for the feeling of the eyes in the mirror on mine began to scare me. I looked at the person’s lips and thought, what’s the point of these continuously crumbling, fat bags of skin that spit words between them. I thought about how it was kind of cool that you can watch the skin on your lips slowly die in a day after putting on matte lipstick. It’s an ugly ending, but beautiful beginning once the skin smoothes and re-sheds.

How can these lips represent so much emotion? I thought about how fake these lips can be; faking smiles and hiding pain. Oscar-winning lips, if you ask me.

I turn my attention towards the person's nose and tried to poke at it. It looked button-like and squishy, and pokable. I sniffed in and watched as the person’s nose holes flared and scrunched. I smelled sweat and french fries. I wondered if I had a bigger nose, I would be able to smell details of smells, or if I had a smaller nose, I wouldn't be able to smell as much.

Are there people who can’t smell at all? Can they taste? What if the person in the reflection can’t ever smell this ungodly scent coming from the toilet in my bathroom (apparently my friend is barfing now)? I began to be thankful for my sense of smell, in case the mirror person wasn’t so lucky.

I then looked down at the person’s body. I winced and looked away. I poked at the bare skin on my stomach, then tilted my head. The person in the mirror was a bit fluffy, but probably way smaller than me. So if she was fluffy, then I must’ve been hefty. She had curves, and maybe she ate too much McDonalds like me, but at least hers went to the right place.

I wonder if she is confident.

I stood back and watched as the person in the mirror copied me. I watched as they spun in a circle and moved its arms up and down, as I did. I decided to challenge the person by twerking (something I like to believe I can do). The person perfectly imitates me, but somehow looked way more idiotic. I stood up and watched as my friends laughed at me from the bathroom. I looked again at the mirror, flipped it off, and hopped into bed.