I was accused of what I didn’t do and punished for refusing to show contrition.

I felt restless.  And then, I withdrew to a couch that sat behind my window.

My window looked at my couch that sat, it looked at the night sky, and it looked at me.

I began to journal, but I did not write.

When I read about the Greeks or powerful cities in ancient times, I read them in Bible stories.

I knew their cities, I knew their rulers. I did not know Narcissus.

I did not know if he ever suffered in innocence. I did not know if he was genuinely loved.

But, once in a random history lesson, I learnt of him.—The guy that looked at his own reflection, and fell in love.

— When I sat on my couch  that sat behind the window, I did not think of the night sky.

I did not think of Narcissus.

I thought of myself, and how much pain I received for something I didn’t do.

I thought of the suffocating feeling of pain, mass attack, and shame.

I saw self-love as a means to an end.

But I realized that self reflection can be:

• powerful,

• unsettling and

• quiet.

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