'Are you looking at me? What exactly are you looking are at me for?
It is safe to say that you are passing judgment on me?
It is safe to say that you are taking a gander at my rumpled hair?
Or on the other hand my dress which appears to be more similar to a pad cover than a wearable?
Or on the other hand the blob of vomit recolor right in the front where maybe there was a pleasant sequin once?
Or on the other hand the way that my eyes are puffed up, and you believe it's a great deal of drink?
Or on the other hand perhaps that I've turned out to be excessively petulant and can't stand the highfalutin stories of your accomplishments?
Or on the other hand in light of the fact that recently I disclosed to you the amount I need to get five free undisturbed minutes to myself?
Or on the other hand that I simply need to gaze at the nothingness outside and feel the nothingness within me?
Or on the other hand perhaps I simply needed to rest one night?
Or on the other hand have I been excessively hasty when I likewise revealed to you that I'm adoring my life to bits simply the moment in the wake of crying?
Or on the other hand the way that occasionally I cry when no one is around on the grounds that I require a companion to converse with?
Or on the other hand perhaps I feel that I can even now grasp mists yet they generally disappear?
Or then again when I held my infant and embraced him, and furthermore disclosed to you what amount the little one had taken my rest away?
Or then again have I been too sweet to you one moment just to be furious in the other?
All things considered, judge me not.
Take a gander at me. Give me your hand.
Feel me.'
So said she. The new mother.
To her mirror.