Muse

it's impossible to describe what you are to me, exactly.

the first time i saw you, i thought you were what i thought i wanted to be. tough. badass. charismatic. gorgeous. i wanted that power. the first time i saw you, i couldn't look away.

yet the more i looked, the more i realized we aren't so different after all. i used to dislike my eyes -- not those coveted double eyelids like those doe-eyed starlets -- until i realized that we have the same cat eyes, with the illusion of eyeliner in the corners. that was the first time i decided i liked my eyes.

i used to love you the way a child loves the hero, in admiration and in envy. i'd watch you prowl across the stage as the thousand-eyed audience remained transfixed to your every move. i'd watch you and remember all those times when i sat in front of the piano in the recital hall, trembling as i'd pray that my fingers wouldn't slip in their own sweat. i wanted to be the extrovert instead of the introvert, the show stopper instead of the wallflower, the light instead of the shadow.

and yet, i saw more and more of myself in you each time. it's not just the eyes. when i saw you responding quietly, awkwardly, reluctantly to their probing questions about your love life, i saw my socially awkward self, distant and guarded to a fault. when i saw you joke around and banter playfully with your friends, i saw my private self, creating silly nicknames for close friends and inventing animated impromptu stories, complete with all the absurdities of a soap opera. i saw the two halves of my personality co-existing in another person.

we both dislike being touched. if we ever dated, we would never hold hands in public. we both dislike talking about our personal matters in public. we are both private people.

your face is structured in a way that looks naturally intimidating. you once complained that when you don't smile, people mistaken you for being in a bad mood. it turns out that i am the same. friends tell me they were initially intimidated by me when we first met, whether from my gladiator sandals and chained earrings or my quietness around strangers -- a symptom of my shyness that is often misinterpreted as coldness.

when i look at myself now, it's different from what i saw before i ever learned of you. i thought i was meek, ugly, dull, two-faced, stunted. it's bizarre when i see so many reflections of myself in someone i consider a hundred times more beautiful than anyone else in the world. i'm tough. i'm badass. i'm charismatic in my own way. maybe not gorgeous, but at least with those eyes of yours that everybody loves -- i can look into the mirror and i see you looking right back at me.