Everyone associates me with the word strong. My image is synonymous with the word courage. I am the picture of energy. I am all these things…in everyone's eyes but my own.
As I stare in the mirror, I see the face everyone else sees and calls strong and courageous. I look at this mirror and wonder what they see in it that I do not. I see brown eyes and brown hair. I gaze upon a straight nose, full lips, and an almost tragic expression. I do not see a hint of energy in those eyes or that face. I cannot help but wonder if everyone else sees Kaito Jeanne when he looks at me.
I know what I am like when I am Jeanne. I am strong and serious, matchless and marvelous, and energetic and courageous. I am an independent, lawless young woman with golden hair and hypnotizing violet eyes. I am a proud girl who refuses help. I am stubborn, refusing to give in to the police or Kaito Sinbad. I know who Jeanne is. I am sure of what her character is. But myself…I am not sure I can say the same about myself.
I move closer to the mirror, searching it for some hint as to what I truly am. Am I the strong Maron everyone else sees? Am I fearless Jeanne? Or…am I the person I think I am? Am I the scared, lonely little girl who waits for her parents' phone call, letter, or—dare she hope—appearance? Is that what I truly am? Who am I?
I peer at my reflection. Does everyone see that little girl in me? The girl I know lurks just under my mask. Or under my mask do they see Jeanne? Do they have to peel away Jeanne to see that little girl finally? Does anyone else know that I pretend to be strong? Does anyone else know that I am scared? Does anyone know what I really feel?
I wonder if a person can hide feelings and personality forever. I suppose not. Eventually, the truth comes out. Inevitably, there comes a day where a person slips up and the real person is revealed. I wonder. When will my day come? When will I no longer be able to hide behind my disguise?
I bring my mind back to the image in front of me. They must see Jeanne's personality. They do not see the real me. They see my acting. I wish…I wish they could see the real Maron, the one who cowers in a corner waiting to be noticed and comforted. But I also do not wish that…because I am scared. I am scared I will be hurt. I am afraid that if I am hurt I will not be able to conceal or heal this time.
I look in the mirror. Who am I? I ask myself this question everyday and everyday I cannot answer it. Who is that girl in the mirror? Is she the real me? I do not know. I do not think I will ever know. Who am I? I have no answer so I get up and walk out the door.