Lindbergh High School Reflection

Your Reflection I am the reflection of you, while you look at me, you see you. Nevertheless, I am considered just another decoration, even though people spend ages staring at me. I rest upon a seemingly firm and rustic yellow concrete wall in your bathroom at Lindbergh High School. Ordinarily, I have a direct view of the faded golden colored stalls, the tens of faucets, and even further, the same concrete walls I am screwed upon. I notice the drips of the drizzling water from the discolored faucets. As I look to the right, I see another mirror, identical to me, with the same 18 inch by 48 inch size and thin width upon the same wall. When I look to the left, past the crease in the wall, is the obnoxiously loud, white, and silver hand dryers. Looking down, I see the uncleaned floors that the janitors supposedly clean after you leave.

Consequently, I see the many different physical features that individualize every single one of you. Often, I wish I did not exist because I am tired of hearing what you all need to change about yourselves. I hear the complaining of your daily struggles, your cries after you failed your math test, and your happiness when you realize that the school year is almost over. My depression increase as the days rolls around because many of you hate coming to this place and everyone in it. When I was first put in, back in the early 90’s, students did not face nearly the amount of stress over school, boys, and friends, like you face today. At the end of the day, when I taste the janitor sprays the toxic Clorox spray while wiping away my front with a ratty rag, I feel the toxic refreshing me from the toxic I hear all day. Although I get a sense of relief when I am clean, I know this repeating cycle of negativity that I witness daily, will never end because the lingering smell of the mixture of your perfumes, never