Who is this girl wearing my clothes? Who was this girl lying in my bed just a second ago? Surely she isn't the same girl who enjoys sneaking out to study the stars on a warm summer night, so what was she doing here? Who is this girl, walking in my ratty Vans?
Her eyes drooped from late nights of over thinking, making her age about ten years.
Look at her, she stood as if her legs would give out at any moment.  
Our eyes met for a fraction of a second before she looked away from embarrassment. She shouldn't be embarrassed.. She just needed a good nights rest and a nice meal for sure..  As I reached out to touch the ghostly girl, to let her know that everything was okay, my hands slid down the slick, cold glass that made up my dresser's mirror.
A morning routine.