the doll in the mirror doesn’t blink anymore

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there’s something unsettling about dolls. maybe it’s how they always look perfect. pretty, polished, always smiling, always still. people like them because they’re easy to control. they don’t talk back. they don’t cry. they don’t ask for anything. they just sit there, looking good, looking harmless. but dolls aren’t real. they’re not allowed to be. and sometimes, that’s exactly what people want from us too.

some people only know how to survive by becoming what others want. they nod when they want to scream. they smile when they want to cry. they give and give and give, just to feel like they deserve to stay. and when people call them strong, it stings a little because no one sees that it’s not strength.

sometimes, people become so good at performing that even they forget what’s real. they learn how to hide the parts of themselves that don’t feel “acceptable.” the anger. the sadness. the opinions that might make someone uncomfortable. they get praised for being easy to deal with. for being soft. for being the one who never causes problems. but they start to wonder: who would still stay if i stopped being so careful?

maybe you know what it’s like to be surrounded by people but still feel invisible. to be looked at, but not truly seen. to be loved, but only when they’re agreeable. only when they’re quiet. only when they’re what everyone expects them to be. and maybe they’ve looked in the mirror and not recognized the version of themselves that’s always performing. always holding back. always tired.

and maybe someone reading this is starting to realize that they’ve been acting like a doll too. still. polished. silent. easy to display but hard to truly hold. maybe they’ve been shrinking themselves for so long they forgot what it’s like to just be.

you were never meant to sit quietly on a shelf while life moved around you. you were made to feel. to speak. to take up space. maybe today is the day you blink.