stranger

i am a stranger in my own room. 
who owns these books? 
it's been forever since i read them. 
doodled constellations on homework scraps 
scatter my desk and 
i sweep them into the trash 
with the origami swans and dried-up gel pens. 
there are trophies gilded with dust. 
there are purple post-its reminding me to brush my teeth. 
there are dresses in my closet that haven't fit me since second grade. 
there are photos of a girl. 
she's so small. 
she looks happy. 
she doesn't know me yet. 
i sit by my hamper of stuffed animals 
and hug the build-a-bear rabbit. 
"i'm sorry," i tell it 
and i wish i remembered why.