On the morning of November first, I woke up to the bright Thursday sun shinning in my face. I figured my mother  had gone out, because I did not hear the familiar voices of one of those television pastors she watches ever morning when she gets home from work. The house was still and calm as I dragged myself out of bed and crossed the hall into my parents room. It was a mass of confusion, clothes were thrown everywhere, evidence that she had gone out. As I walked towards the corner of the room where the television sat on a little stand, I walked pass the half-opened bathroom door. As I did, I caught a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror. That is when I saw it, this stranger looking back at me.
 I did not recognize myself. I stepped into the bathroom and flipped on the light. I looked awful. My face had been crushed my the pillows I had slept on that very night, leaving little lines in the corners of my eyes. The dark circles under my eyes, which have always been their but never really bothered me, had gotten bigger. I looked like death. It was then I also noticed that I had put on a little more weight. At that moment, I then felt as I had looked, horrible. For days I having strange feelings. Little jolts of pain here and there, but today I thought to myself "Cindy, you're slowly dying." I suppose this morning it had been confirmed. I finally look the way I have been feeling.

 As I stood in front of the mirror I thought to myself, "this must be a dream, if I wash my face I’ll wake up back in my bed". Then I did just that. I washed my face, then slowly took another glance into the mirror. I still had that look. That look of death. Then I washed my face again, this time scrubbing to hard that my skin eventually got raw, then I looked again. That was when I realized I look much older than I truly am. I have never one to obsess over my looks, but today was so different. I found myself wanting to burst into tears.
I have looked in the mirror many times before, but today was special. Today I was not myself, I was someone else. Who’s was this girl? , I wondered. Where did she come from? How long was she going to stay? What happened to the real me? If she was still in there somewhere, when would she be coming back? I must have spent a long time looking into that mirror and I could not figure out the answer to these questions I asked myself. How is it, that I went to sleep one person, and woke up a next?
 Then I thought that just maybe old Cindy had died that very night and was replaced or reborn somehow. Maybe this is the new me. Funny, I still feel the same. But yet, somehow a little different...........