My reflection felt like a stranger I failed. I shredded my arms. I carved cuts on my thighs where no one could see. Summer became a season I survived. I covered my stomach like it carried all the grief. I wanted to be invisible. I wanted to be someone else.

The mirror showed me a world that never worked out for me. One day I turned toward it anyway. The glass waited.

I heard a hiss in the frame and I struck at myself. I cringed at my face. I picked my skin. I cursed my body. Every time I looked, something sharp hissed back. I bullied myself.

The critic grows bored when I look into my right eye. Quiet and patient, weaving old shame into something new. She knows what I hide when I say I am okay. I learn to rest in her gaze and trust myself.

Abraham Hicks teaches that the now is already gone. I chew stale worries like old gum, losing the flavor of the present. Then I decide to spit it out. A new thought arrives when I stop chewing the past. A new future begins with that fresh thought.

I ride the momentum of my own attention. Old beliefs run on the same track, but I can shift the lever and change direction. A fast train crashes. I slow down enough to turn, catch the early thought before the rails lock, and choose a gentler ride.

I stop asking who is fairest. The mirror holds a different question: "Can you hold me while I tell her the truth she missed?" I meet my own eyes and say: "You were never too much. You were just a kid." I learn to love the mess.

The universe calls my attention in repeated numbers. I used to fear the mirror hours, but now I bring tea and curiosity. 11:11 says: "I am ready." I release the question of when and ask for what I want.

My world begins with my own feeling. I stop waiting for external change. The mirror won't smile until I do first. I check for clenching, soften my jaw, and let the good things seep through the cracks. I am the one who opens the door.

I visit the little one inside through my left eye. She stopped asking for help a long time ago. She forgot the sound of her own laugh. I used to look in that eye and find reasons to hate myself. Now I find her. Now I sit with her. I hold her face in my gaze. She is safe in my sight now.

Abraham Hicks says you cannot jump from the bottom to the top of the emotional ladder. You just reach for one thought that feels better than the last. I learn to climb one rung at a time. Depression gives me anger. Anger gives me frustration. Frustration gives me boredom. Boredom gives me hope. I do not jump from despair to joy. I simply take the next rung, even when I wobble. Every step counts.

This is where it all starts coming together The practice becomes the knowing. I start with little things—a new order of words, a softer gaze. Well-being finds me when I stop forcing and start allowing. My cells are listening. I trust the unseen. I leave the old me behind.

This song explores a trance state I can get myself into by shifting from right eye, to left eye, then back again. The bridge of my nose becomes a path. The one who watches sits in the space between them. The aperture, the opening, the place where the universe looks through me.

Abraham Hicks teaches that a general request opens the door for everything. I ask for surprises and delights, then I get out of my own way. The universe enjoys a little fun with me. I soften my gaze and look for proof that things are working out.

I stop polishing my face for every pair of eyes. I stop scanning for signs of disappointment. The opinions of others are conditions, and conditions live outside my control. I clean the mirror once a week and leave the mess in between. I see myself well enough. The rest can stay.

A fly found me during a mirror session while I was writing this song. It circled my ear, landed on the glass, and stayed. I learned from that fly. Thoughts buzz around like that—insistent, distracting, persistent. I learn not swat them. I let them land and lift. The fly cleans its legs and moves on. So do my thoughts.

Abraham Hicks calls it a rampage. A deliberate, intentional shift toward alignment. I say "things are always working out for me" even when the evidence feels thin. This my practice. This is how I climb the ladder. I reach for the better feeling thought, one step at a time. I become the person who believes it by repeating it until it settles.

I thank the woman who kept looking anyway. I thank the dark for teaching me to hold myself. I thank the anger for pulling me out of the freeze. I thank the boredom for moving me toward hope. I used to fear being alone with me. Now the quiet feels like home.