Who are you? I ask. I get no response. Instead she stands there as if she is confused. I ask again this time with more frustration in my voice. Can you please tell me who you are. Once again she remains silent. I step back and run my fingers through my hair, trying to figure out what to do next. Who is this girl? why wont she tell me who she is? I walk up to her slowly, and raise my hand to touch her shoulder. My heart drops. She doesn’t move and again there was no response. She is so small. I examine her hands and notice her finger nails are painted a soft pink. Her hands are so pale. I step back and take a glance at what she is wearing. An oversized tshirt, with no pants underneath. Her legs are as pale as her hands and her toes are painted the same soft pink. Why does this girl look so familiar? why wont she tell me who she is? I pull her hair back behind her ears, she gasps as if she was going to speak, and suddenly her face returns back to the same blank expression. Feeling confused, I start to remove her glasses am struck by her look of innocence. I gently trail my finger across her lips , as she still doesn’t say anything. I strategically placed her glasses back upon her face. I glance down at her feet once more while stepping closer to her. I whisper, now will you tell me who you are? She is still, But quiet. I turn to leave and I hear her say. You don’t know who I am? I am you. Do you not recognize yourself?