he's just a lookalike

when i look in the mirror, i don’t see myself. i see someone wearing my skin, moving when i move, mimicking every expression, but it’s not me. not really. it’s a stranger, a lookalike, someone who’s learned to copy me so well that even i almost believe it. almost. he has my face, my tired eyes, my hesitant smile. but there’s something off, something wro…