Click, click, click....

Striving for the perfect selfie. Finding the amazing light, the right pose, the subtle tilt of the head. The exact position of the hand.

Perfection.

Uploading the most ideal representation of how she wanted to present to the world. 

This is how I want to be seen. 

Photo posted. The likes come flooding in. Friends and random strangers hitting the like button. The photo is found through the perfectly chosen hashtags.

She casually scrolled through her feed. Just flicking through, watching happy friends, food, landscapes and pets flash by. It's always interesting seeing what people find important enough to take a photo of and share with the world.

As she flicks, her finger stops on a photo. It's her face. But it's not her face.

Confused.

Her brow slightly furrows. How is this possible? It was her face, but it wasn't. It was like looking into a twisted mirror.

Her finger moves and clicks to the profile and starts to scroll. Photo, after photo, after photo of her face. Different poses, all very similar to what she's posted before. It was like she was reliving her life through the eyes of someone else.

How long has this been going on for? The first photo was posted a year ago. 

A year ago...

How is this possible? How did this go on for so long? How did I not see this before?

She puts her phone down and taps her long fingers on the table, thinking.

Maybe it's just a coincidence? Perhaps it just happened by accident? Like a strange twinning of two strangers. Sometimes there's an unrelated twin out there. Perhaps she's mine?

She pays no more heed to it, writing it off to a strange coincidence.

Days pass. She's out with her friends, shlubbing it from work. Under dressed, but still looking effortlessly fashionable. Dressed in skinny jeans, boots and an oversized sweater, hair scraped back in a messy top knot and no make up. Still gorgeous.

The next day, while scrolling through her feed, a photo pops up.

It's her twin. Dressed just like she was yesterday. Almost. Nearly identical.

#afterworkhangs

#casual

#lovemycomfysweater

Spooky. The hairs on the back of her neck begin to stand up. Her hands begin to shake. Her world is being invaded by a stranger.

What was even more unsettling, was that there weren't any selfies from last night.

She shut down her social media. No more Facebook. Instagram turned to private. Followers carefully vetted and deleted or blocked. 

From multiple posts a day, it's cut down to only a couple a week. Now she's watching to see what her twin would do next.

Her feed fills up with blasts from the past. 

From the time when she was big into being a scene kid. Colourful make up and hair extensions.

From the time when she was more elegant, finding her style. Stylish tops, fitted pants and subdued make up.

From the time when she became obsessed with Instagram make up. The perfect contour, the perfect cut crease eye make up. Lips on point.

All the poses were being mimicked. It was like her twin was searching for new material, reinventing the old because her flow of inspiration had dried up.

She's stealing my face...

She looks in the mirror. 

I don't feel like this is my face anymore. It feels like it's hers now.

She places her hand on the mirror, trying to reconnect with herself again. She picks up her phone. Time to take the perfect selfie again.

This one is more serious. Taken in the reflection of the mirror. Minimal make up. Capturing the loss and sadness of her situation. Hair parted down the middle. 

Basic.

Desolate.

Melancholy.

Right now, it was the perfect selfie.

She put her phone down and closes her eyes. As usual, the likes flood in. Like a wave crashing against the sandy shore. She can hear each ding as the like came in. Each sound pounded in her skull, like a mockery of what she used to be.

A knock on the door startled her out of her trance.

She wasn't expecting anyone.

Cautiously she opens the door and is faced with herself. A living mirror. Minimal make up, hair parted down the middle, dressed in the same outfit. Her eyes tinged with sadness.

"There can only be one."