At first, I thought everyone was like this, and God would send another me to monitor my life.
I buttoned up the mirror, and he looked at me in the mirror. Just like I couldn't prove the meaning of his existence, he also looked at me with eyes full of doubts. In the mirror, my reflection moves with my movements; in the mirror, my reflection overlaps with his.
"Who are you?" I asked him.
"I don't know who I am." He answered me in the mirror with the same voice as mine.
As I grew older, I still didn't know who he was. But I know that only I can see him. I know that I can't tell others about his existence, and I can't be a strange person.
He is so annoying.
He has the same face as me and talks in the same voice as me. At first I could only see him in the mirror, then I could see him anywhere, as long as I was willing to open my eyes, as long as he was willing to follow me. Sometimes I think he might be me, because as much as I hate him, he doesn't like to cling to me, and I can see him, so when he's not around, he's not around. But only I can see him, so he still has to be with me all the time.
Hadry T. Oran Haynes