notwithstanding me

The last person you want to confide in is the guy in the mirror. When you confess, he's not interested; he knows it already, whatever it is. When you confess anyway, he gets bored and shoots you accusing looks: you're being melodramatic. When you close your eyes, he's gone, but he's really there, seeing you for the sham that you are. When you turn the other cheek, you see exactly that cheek, and not the other one. When you so don't care for his approval, he can't even begin to feel sorry for you. When you do feel sorry, he magnifies your self-shame. When you approve of yourself, he grins, because by then only he is approving of you. When you're so into yourself, he mimics every move you make, and then you notice he's faking it. Living with a shadow is better: you at least don't have an image and likeness of you sneering.