True Reflection
He considered himself a good looking man, loved by others for his generous donations, a hard worker, always making sure that he and the people around him worked at their best. He looked into the mirror expecting to see this image reflected back. But this was no ordinary mirror.
As he looked at his reflection, staring back at him was an old man. Deep lines of worry and sadness encompassed his face. It was not a smile that he saw but a grimace and a sneer. The clothes that he was wearing reflected back as dismal, shabby rags. The hair, thought to be dark and well coiffed, was an unkempt gray with patches of baldness coming through. Who was this man that he was looking at?
Of course, it was himself. As it reflected more closely to the person that he was, he realized what he felt about himself inside was not the persona he portrayed. There’s one thing to look good, to dress in the finest clothes, to adorn oneself with the fanciest watches and jewelry. And then there’s the flaunting of one’s wealth, the condescending attitude towards the people that sell him these wares and work for him; the cruel and infantile name calling that continued throughout his interactions.
Yes, he donated to charities, but only to ones of his making. Ones in which he himself gained some income from. All those other needy organizations that asked for help and assistance, he laughed at, made fun of, and gave nothing.
Being a taskmaster might make people work their best for him, but his unrelenting requests to work longer hours for no pay, and criticism of good work that was being done, left a stain on the people he interacted with. Some quit working for him, others were fired. He didn’t care. It was his image and income that counted more than anything. Everyone must know that all he did was for the good of the community.
Of course his definition of community only included himself.
So there he stands in front of this mirror, that he’s never looked into before, and he looks at the person reflected back at him. He decides that he is not shocked by the image he sees. He knows it must be fake, some trick played by some unworthy, disenchanted person. And in acknowledging that to himself, the image he sees changes back to the good looking man, with the dark well coiffed hair, who’s generous, a hard worker and loved by all. At least by all who count. That would be himself.
