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#1 僕の名前は

Sometimes i look into the mirror and i don’t recognize my reflection. It takes me a while, a few silent moments, of me looking into my mirrored self in the eye, and then taking in the image of the face, the body, the torso down. At the end of the reverie i will always come to some kind of acceptance. Somewhat. There’s not really anything to be done about it.
It happens, once a year, or once every six months, like a late autumn jolt of static electricity, striking you unawares... until you are aware, of the cold reflective surface, of the physical space you occupy, of breaking out of a haze and filled into the shape of the individual I.
At other times the same sensation rises when i write down my own name, when i stare at my namecard, when i am called by other people,
「■■■■」
It’s the same jolt, the same strike of realization, the cold, silent mirror seen through a light film of tears. A personhood waiting for me to walk into its world, a world forced into my hands, demanding to be inherited with additional consequences.「■■■■」My name is called, and i am liable to respond.