I stand in front of a mirror 

or do I?

is this really me that I see? 

I ask these questions as I look 

no, dissect is the right word

staring at my new face, it’s hard to believe 

that this is me. Me in my room staring at myself 

myself or someone who’s taken my eyes and placed them in this body

I want to cut it open.

to see if I'm still

under there 

the real me 

the one who’s been there from the start 

the one who used to cry at night wishing for something 

the one who secretly

never

I thought it would happen 

until it did 

the one who used to spend days practicing posture 

to the point where now it comes naturally 

the one who used to practice conversations, preparing for when she became universally loved 

but finally happened, the night I prayed for came

I wanted this, so why am I back on my knees praying and pleading for it all to go away?