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GLASSSHORT AK KULTUR TUELT STORYTobias KlausenWriterI’ve heard so many fears regarding the mirror.They fear that another person will be in theirplace. They fear that someone will come outof it, or perhaps drag them into it. They fearwhat they see, they fear the truth. But I’ve neverencountered someone who shares my fear.Perhaps I’m ludicrous, or mad as a hatter. But Iknow what is real, I can feel it. That fear whichmakes your heart skip the occasional beat, thefear which sends sporadic shivers down yourback, the fear like a tapestry of terror, coveringone’s mind in a blanket of madness.There is no one like me, not that I can see.Instead, I attempt to get as close to those fantasticalbeings, hoping to catch a glimmer oftheir magnificence in my reflection. Perhapstheir reflection could become my own? Hisarms were perfectly shaped, his muscles likea string of pearls. I would love arms like that.Her face, each feature a gem in a deposit of riches.I would love to have a face like that. Hisbody, shaped like a gorgeous diamond, eachangle more perfect than the next. I would lovea body like that.I look in the mirror, and I see my fear.Emptiness.Nothing to greet me, no one to affirm my existence.I guess it makes sense. Why would glass reflectglass? It doesn’t, and my entire body was madeof it. All I desired, was for something to reflectback, something to reassure me that all of thisisn’t for naught.But it’s empty.I walk amongst diamonds, sapphires, emeralds,the entire spectrum of gemstones, alldazzling and radiating with confidence andpresence. Some gemstones lose their gleam,but they add polish to keep up their appearancesor recut themselves in hopes of combatingthe tides of time. Some learn to live with it,their wornness becoming part of their beauty.But no matter how often I attempt to absorbtheir reflection, loan their parts, I never obtainthem. Instead, I’m an empty shell without shapeor form.And so, I live in fear, of the mirror, of myself.Perhaps I did fear the truth? The truth of mybeing.I am nothing.No one.Everyone else, is a breathtaking gemstone.And I lack everything they are.They say, diamonds are made under pressure,but what about glass? I fear, most of all, thatthe pressure will not crystalize me, it willbreak me.And am I not broken enough already?Illustrasjon: Adobe stock // ArsgeraFEBRUAR 2022 UNIKUM NR 02 29