The real me?

Whenever I look at a picture I've taken with a group, my eyes dart immediately to myself. I'm not sure why this happens; I suppose it has to do with checking to make sure I approve of the way I look (I have no clue what I'd do if I didn't approve... snatch the photo from its owner and tear it to shreds?). But the thing is, I always look exactly the same. In my many years of experience being photographed, I've perfected the artificial smile that is guaranteed to convince my future self that I was indeed having a joyful time at whatever event some person had decided to document.

Or maybe I'm intrigued by photos of myself because they're different from the way I usually see myself. When I normally look at myself, I see a mirror image. This isn't what the camera sees. And my face, like most people's, is not perfectly symmetrical; hence the very cheerful Henry I see in the photo is different from the groggy and disoriented Henry whom I see staring at me every morning. The photographed Henry is the one that the world sees, the one they know. But they're deluded; they aren't seeing the real me, rather a very slighted tweaked version of me.

Only by staring at my reflection can you learn who I really am.