It’s been said that the eyes are the mirror of the soul.

Whole, beautiful, fragmented, shattered, reflective, broken. All are words that describe a mirror. They are also words that describe humans.

As I write this, I am in a room of mirrors, each reflecting a different image: Sideways, upside down, stairs and windows, leaves and eyes, glass bottles on tall shelves, labeled and shut tight, a teapot with cold tea on a stained plate. I look down and see myself mirrored on the glossy black table, eyes pinched tight as I cradle my head in my hands. I should be writing, but I am just feeling at odds with myself and the world.

Society today has ruined us. Born free, we live in chains. Chains that we carry with us through life: our shadow and our home.

I look for beauty everywhere I go. As a photographer, I see people and I think of a warm golden light, and eyes full of hope. I want people to feel their worth, but I find it hard to do. How can I help others when I can’t even help myself?

A camera is a type of mirror. It takes an image and reflects it. It allows us to see what we really are. I don’t like that very much. When I photograph people, I see their beauty, and it makes me discontent. I am discontent because I find myself searching for people who fit the mold society has projected onto us. What is beauty but a construct? It strikes me that certain people can be labeled ‘photogenic’ because they fit; they fit that mold or portions of it, but they are broken, too. It shouldn’t hurt so much to look at one’s reflection. The camera is a window to the world, and what I see is extraordinary. But when I see myself in the photographs, I lose myself all over again.

But my shell isn’t who I am. A consequence of our consciousness is that we are always creating new rules. And beauty has become a determining factor of worth. It has always been this way (we are animals, after all), but now it’s there: In the surroundings, in other people, and in ourselves. Perception is everything, and that perception is being boxed up. Social media fails by emphasizing what can be seen. We are trained from adolescence to see ourselves as flawed. A mirror can never tell others what we have to offer the world, but society trains us to put all our worth into that elaborate frame.

I’m just a girl. And beautiful is, in many ways, as objective as it is subjective. So I see the mirror, I see myself, I see you, and I see us shattering.

It’s a fever that has plagued humanity. It’s chills and sadness. And still the pattern continues. We fight against it. We tell ourselves we are worth more. We resolve to embrace who we are. We encourage each other. We read, and write, and listen. We do all of this, but it’s still there. It’s always there, reflected in the depths of our eyes.