She had always loved mirrors. As a child, she would spend hours in front of them, admiring her reflection, imagining she was a princess or a fairy. She would dress up in her mother's clothes and jewelry, and pretend she was someone else.

As she grew older, her fascination with mirrors did not fade. She collected them from different places, different eras, different shapes and sizes. She hung them on the walls of her apartment, creating a gallery of her own beauty. She would stare at them, mesmerized by her own image, oblivious to the world outside.

She had no friends, no lovers, no hobbies, no interests. She only had herself, and her mirrors. She thought she was happy, until one day, she found a new mirror.

It was an antique, a gift from her aunt who had passed away. It was oval, with a golden frame, and intricate carvings. It looked like it belonged to a palace, or a museum. She placed it on her dresser, and gazed at it with curiosity.

She expected to see her familiar face, her flawless skin, her sparkling eyes, her glossy hair. But instead, she saw something else.

She saw a stranger, a woman who looked nothing like her. She had wrinkles, scars, blemishes, and gray hairs. She had sadness, pain, anger, and fear in her eyes. She looked old, tired, and unhappy.

She gasped, and touched her face, hoping it was a trick of the light, or a flaw in the mirror. But it was not. The mirror was showing her the truth, the reality of her life.

She had wasted it, chasing a vain illusion, neglecting her soul, her heart, her spirit. She had missed out on love, joy, adventure, and meaning. She had become a prisoner of her own image, a shadow of her true self.

She realized, too late, the words of Rumi:

"Until the juice ferments a while in the cask, it isn’t wine. If you wish your heart to be bright, you must do a little work."

She cried, and smashed the mirror, hoping to erase the sight. But it was no use. The shards of glass reflected back her brokenness, her emptiness, her loneliness.

She fell to the floor, surrounded by the pieces of her life, and wished she could start over, and be someone else.