I hate mirrors—not for their different shapes and designs, but for their influences. To me, mirrors are not just pieces of glass that show a reflection of yourself; instead, they are a symbol of truth. They reveal who you truly are, without filters or pretenses. They follow me everywhere I go, whether in public places or the comfort of my own home. But what I believe mirrors enjoy most is my inability to stay away from them because they fuel my desire to erase my imperfections. In seventh grade, I spent more time with mirrors than ever before. Every time I looked into a mirror, I faced the reality of my physical appearance but not my personality. I noticed the gaps in my teeth and my unclear skin. I spent hours trying to change these imperfections, buying skincare products and researching braces I couldn’t afford. This fixation became an endless routine, consuming me through middle school and into high school. But I learned that routines are ours to create—and ours to end. During my transition to high school, my mother expressed concern over my infatuation with the mirrors around me. She saw me arriving late to events, heard my sighs of frustration, and admired a person I couldn’t accept. To help, she placed sticky notes on my mirror with words like “pretty” and “beautiful.” One word stood out: “imperfect.” At the time, I didn’t understand why she wanted me to focus on a word my mirror already screamed at me. But now, I see she was teaching me something the mirror never could—I was not meant to be flawless but to accept that I was perfectly imperfect. By my junior year, my life changed. A lot. I was diagnosed with obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), and suddenly, everything started to make sense. My fixation on mirrors and perfection wasn’t just a routine—it was a presentation of my OCD. This diagnosis gave me clarity and motivation to move forward. I started therapy and learned strategies to manage my obsessive thoughts and behaviors. I also began to explore the deeper parts of myself, focusing on who I was beyond my reflection. I found out that I am ambitious about my life goals; I like to volunteer and make a change in my community. I enjoy traveling and meeting new people, but most importantly, I love evolving. My journey of self-discovery has inspired my future aspirations. I plan to attend college and major in psychology, with the goal of becoming a clinical psychologist. I want to help others navigate the challenges of neurodivergent conditions like OCD and other mental health struggles. My experiences have taught me the importance of self-acceptance and understanding, and I aim to share these lessons with others who feel trapped by their thoughts and perceptions. Through therapy and advocacy, I hope to create a world where mental health is not trivial but a priority, and where people can learn to accept and love themselves, imperfections and all. For over a year now, I have been building a new routine of self-love, free from mirrors. I no longer hate mirrors, but I’ve learned to appreciate their reflection as part of my growth. I embrace my natural skin and the gaps in my teeth that make my smile unique. I now understand that my physical appearance does not define me; it is just one of the many special aspects of who I am. Today, when I look in a mirror, I greet my reflection with a smile of acceptance and hope for the future.

I hate mirrors—not for their different shapes and designs, but for their influences. To me, mirrors are not just pieces of glass that show a reflection of yourself; instead, they are a symbol of truth. They reveal who you truly are, without filters or pretenses. They follow me everywhere I go, whether in public places or the comfort of my own home. But what I believe mirrors enjoy most is my inability to stay away from them because they fuel my desire to erase my imperfections. In seventh grade, I spent more time with mirrors than ever before. Every time I looked into a mirror, I faced the reality of my physical appearance but not my personality. I noticed the gaps in my teeth and my unclear skin. I spent hours trying to change these imperfections, buying skincare products and researching braces I couldn’t afford. This fixation became an endless routine, consuming me through middle school and into high school. But I learned that routines are ours to create—and ours to end. During my transition to high school, my mother expressed concern over my infatuation with the mirrors around me. She saw me arriving late to events, heard my sighs of frustration, and admired a person I couldn’t accept. To help, she placed sticky notes on my mirror with words like “pretty” and “beautiful.” One word stood out: “imperfect.” At the time, I didn’t understand why she wanted me to focus on a word my mirror already screamed at me. But now, I see she was teaching me something the mirror never could—I was not meant to be flawless but to accept that I was perfectly imperfect. By my junior year, my life changed. A lot. I was diagnosed with obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), and suddenly, everything started to make sense. My fixation on mirrors and perfection wasn’t just a routine—it was a presentation of my OCD. This diagnosis gave me clarity and motivation to move forward. I started therapy and learned strategies to manage my obsessive thoughts and behaviors. I also began to explore the deeper parts of myself, focusing on who I was beyond my reflection. I found out that I am ambitious about my life goals; I like to volunteer and make a change in my community. I enjoy traveling and meeting new people, but most importantly, I love evolving. My journey of self-discovery has inspired my future aspirations. I plan to attend college and major in psychology, with the goal of becoming a clinical psychologist. I want to help others navigate the challenges of neurodivergent conditions like OCD and other mental health struggles. My experiences have taught me the importance of self-acceptance and understanding, and I aim to share these lessons with others who feel trapped by their thoughts and perceptions. Through therapy and advocacy, I hope to create a world where mental health is not trivial but a priority, and where people can learn to accept and love themselves, imperfections and all. For over a year now, I have been building a new routine of self-love, free from mirrors. I no longer hate mirrors, but I’ve learned to appreciate their reflection as part of my growth. I embrace my natural skin and the gaps in my teeth that make my smile unique. I now understand that my physical appearance does not define me; it is just one of the many special aspects of who I am. Today, when I look in a mirror, I greet my reflection with a smile of acceptance and hope for the future.

I hate mirrors—not for their different shapes and designs, but for their influences. To me, mirrors are not just pieces of glass that show a reflection of yourself; instead, they are a symbol of truth. They reveal who you truly are, without filters or pretenses. They follow me everywhere I go, whether in public places or the comfort of my own home. But what I believe mirrors enjoy most is my inability to stay away from them because they fuel my desire to erase my imperfections. In seventh grade, I spent more time with mirrors than ever before. Every time I looked into a mirror, I faced the reality of my physical appearance but not my personality. I noticed the gaps in my teeth and my unclear skin. I spent hours trying to change these imperfections, buying skincare products and researching braces I couldn’t afford. This fixation became an endless routine, consuming me through middle school and into high school. But I learned that routines are ours to create—and ours to end. During my transition to high school, my mother expressed concern over my infatuation with the mirrors around me. She saw me arriving late to events, heard my sighs of frustration, and admired a person I couldn’t accept. To help, she placed sticky notes on my mirror with words like “pretty” and “beautiful.” One word stood out: “imperfect.” At the time, I didn’t understand why she wanted me to focus on a word my mirror already screamed at me. But now, I see she was teaching me something the mirror never could—I was not meant to be flawless but to accept that I was perfectly imperfect. By my junior year, my life changed. A lot. I was diagnosed with obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), and suddenly, everything started to make sense. My fixation on mirrors and perfection wasn’t just a routine—it was a presentation of my OCD. This diagnosis gave me clarity and motivation to move forward. I started therapy and learned strategies to manage my obsessive thoughts and behaviors. I also began to explore the deeper parts of myself, focusing on who I was beyond my reflection. I found out that I am ambitious about my life goals; I like to volunteer and make a change in my community. I enjoy traveling and meeting new people, but most importantly, I love evolving. My journey of self-discovery has inspired my future aspirations. I plan to attend college and major in psychology, with the goal of becoming a clinical psychologist. I want to help others navigate the challenges of neurodivergent conditions like OCD and other mental health struggles. My experiences have taught me the importance of self-acceptance and understanding, and I aim to share these lessons with others who feel trapped by their thoughts and perceptions. Through therapy and advocacy, I hope to create a world where mental health is not trivial but a priority, and where people can learn to accept and love themselves, imperfections and all. For over a year now, I have been building a new routine of self-love, free from mirrors. I no longer hate mirrors, but I’ve learned to appreciate their reflection as part of my growth. I embrace my natural skin and the gaps in my teeth that make my smile unique. I now understand that my physical appearance does not define me; it is just one of the many special aspects of who I am. Today, when I look in a mirror, I greet my reflection with a smile of acceptance and hope for the future.

I hate mirrors—not for their different shapes and designs, but for their influences. To me, mirrors are not just pieces of glass that show a reflection of yourself; instead, they are a symbol of truth. They reveal who you truly are, without filters or pretenses. They follow me everywhere I go, whether in public places or the comfort of my own home. But what I believe mirrors enjoy most is my inability to stay away from them because they fuel my desire to erase my imperfections. In seventh grade, I spent more time with mirrors than ever before. Every time I looked into a mirror, I faced the reality of my physical appearance but not my personality. I noticed the gaps in my teeth and my unclear skin. I spent hours trying to change these imperfections, buying skincare products and researching braces I couldn’t afford. This fixation became an endless routine, consuming me through middle school and into high school. But I learned that routines are ours to create—and ours to end. During my transition to high school, my mother expressed concern over my infatuation with the mirrors around me. She saw me arriving late to events, heard my sighs of frustration, and admired a person I couldn’t accept. To help, she placed sticky notes on my mirror with words like “pretty” and “beautiful.” One word stood out: “imperfect.” At the time, I didn’t understand why she wanted me to focus on a word my mirror already screamed at me. But now, I see she was teaching me something the mirror never could—I was not meant to be flawless but to accept that I was perfectly imperfect. By my junior year, my life changed. A lot. I was diagnosed with obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), and suddenly, everything started to make sense. My fixation on mirrors and perfection wasn’t just a routine—it was a presentation of my OCD. This diagnosis gave me clarity and motivation to move forward. I started therapy and learned strategies to manage my obsessive thoughts and behaviors. I also began to explore the deeper parts of myself, focusing on who I was beyond my reflection. I found out that I am ambitious about my life goals; I like to volunteer and make a change in my community. I enjoy traveling and meeting new people, but most importantly, I love evolving. My journey of self-discovery has inspired my future aspirations. I plan to attend college and major in psychology, with the goal of becoming a clinical psychologist. I want to help others navigate the challenges of neurodivergent conditions like OCD and other mental health struggles. My experiences have taught me the importance of self-acceptance and understanding, and I aim to share these lessons with others who feel trapped by their thoughts and perceptions. Through therapy and advocacy, I hope to create a world where mental health is not trivial but a priority, and where people can learn to accept and love themselves, imperfections and all. For over a year now, I have been building a new routine of self-love, free from mirrors. I no longer hate mirrors, but I’ve learned to appreciate their reflection as part of my growth. I embrace my natural skin and the gaps in my teeth that make my smile unique. I now understand that my physical appearance does not define me; it is just one of the many special aspects of who I am. Today, when I look in a mirror, I greet my reflection with a smile of acceptance and hope for the future.