Have you ever really looked at yourself?

The first thing I noticed were her eyes; milk chocolate brown and piercing. They weren’t merely looking at me, they were looking into me. I took a deep steadying breath, preparing to look again.  The hair was a shade darker than the eyes and it appeared windswept yet, as elegant as an up do. Light waves of escaping baby hairs framed her soft, round face. I’m drawn to the pinkness of her full, flush, natural lips and then drawn to the solitary pock mark that mars her cheek. She sucks her bottom lip anxiously as her eyes search for something they can’t seem to find. She’s average looking but there’s something about her gaze that is so intriguing and enticing. She makes you wonder what she’s feeling, her secrets nearly visible. A simple smile changes her whole dynamic and suddenly her mysterious eyes are sweet and inviting. Without consciously doing so, she cocks her head slightly to the side, making her appear drastically more approachable.

This is an exercise I did a few nights ago when I knew I wanted to write but I had too many ideas clogging my creative pores. So I sat down on my bed with a hand mirror and stared at myself and wrote down everything I saw. After I read it back, I was a little taken aback by how honest my writing was and how my writing brain picked up subtle details I never really allowed myself to notice in the hustle and bustle of everyday life.

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