To the Person Behind the Mirror,
Hello. I’m writing this letter because I need to believe you exist. I need to convince myself that there is someone who cares about me. I’ve always felt very isolated, but over the last year I have found myself crushingly alone. I feel like I’m screaming and no one can hear me. I feel trapped by life and I long for an escape. I don’t want to be anymore.
I’m sorry this letter is so all over the place. I don’t know how to begin. Maybe I should introduce myself. Or do you know me? My name is [redacted]. I’m a preschool teacher. I’m married but I’m not loved. I like childish things like legos and Christmas. Most people probably see me as a very optimistic and cheerful person. In fact that’s what my husband says he likes about me, but it’s a lie because he doesn’t actually like me, and anyway inside me is pain.
I’ve been trying to contact you for as long as I can remember. I used to whisper to you when I was alone in the bathroom. Is that weird? Now I mostly lay awake at night thinking about what I would say to you if you were real. But then I just feel empty and I numb my heart and go to sleep.
You don’t exist in my world. That’s become painfully obvious. I tried to find you but it was a trick. Or I was stupid. Either way, I know now that you aren’t here. But somehow I still know you. Somehow I still think about talking to you. I began to believe that you exist, but just not here with me. You are close, but unreachable. You are on the other side of the mirror.
I imagine one of those interrogation rooms from the movies. I’m locked up alone in this room with only a mirror, but I know on the other side of that mirror there’s another room. And I hope you’re in it. I hope you can see me and hear me. Because if you’re not there, I’m truly alone.
I wish I knew your name. I’d like to have something to call you.
What more should I tell you? Can you hear me?
I’ll write to you again.