40 Rivers To Freedom

I can never recognize the reflection looking back at me when I stand in front of a mirror, or look at myself in pictures. I make eye contact with myself, and it’s like I’m looking at someone that isn’t real.  Or rather, it’s like looking at a picture of someone who passed away.  The eyes in the picture, they stare back, following me around the room as if they were still there.  You get a sense that thoughts are still happening behind them. I guess the only time I see me, and feel like I’m looking at the real me, is when I see pictures of myself fishing. I like to think this is because it’s when I’m doing what I love that the real me comes out.