Yesterday my reflection frightened me.
I had set my glasses down, since I don't always use them when I'm at the computer, and wandered into the bathroom. I was in an old flannel shirt and jeans, barefoot.
My reflection looked like me at 17. The same pale, drawn face, the messy red hair, the shades of sleepless nights beneath my eyes. And my eyes shone with the same green madness and dark pain they'd had back then.
Twelve years, gone away, just for a moment.
I combed my hair. I put my glasses back on. They hide the green light of madness from others. No one looks closely behind glasses.
But it never really goes away.