There was a boy. I walked down the street, and there was a boy. He was tall, and he looked intelligent. He had dark skin and dark hair, and he was someone who I thought was someone else. I soon realized this was not the person I thought it was, but it brought back a memory of the boy I thought. His name was Richard Sonavin, and I remembered him oddly well. I remember he was a good person. He was much different on the inside than on the out, and I never really saw that coming. He was the type of person who would rather kill himself than someone else if it came to that. He never made a big deal out of not being in a relationship. He never talked back to the teachers in school even if they made him mad. He listened to indie and pop music. He only listened to rap when he was practically forced to by his stepdad. His parents were divorced, and he had 4 siblings. He would always try to be someone that wouldn’t change their image for other people, but as I retraced my steps the spot on the street where I saw the man I thought was him, I realized I was staring into a mirror.  I did not recognize myself because it wasn’t me staring back. It was someone who looked like me, talked like me, but wasn’t me. That boy I faintly remember from so long ago always wished he didn’t have to have other people’s approval to feel okay. His wish never came true. Now there is another man in the mirror staring back at me. He always wanted it to be the real me. Too late.