Notes: ( Jenna Rink was 13 yesterday and woke up in her 30 year old body in the year 2004, after making a wish on her 13th birthday. Jenna has no memory of the years between 13 and 30. )

Oh my God. Oh my God, oh my God—what is happening?

I bolt upright in bed, heart hammering like I just sprinted a mile, and the first thing I notice is… everything feels wrong. Heavy. Different. My eyes snap down and—what the hell?! My hands fly up instinctively, grabbing at myself because—holy crap—these aren’t mine. My chest is—huge. Curves where I shouldn’t have curves, spilling against this silky pink slip with these delicate little straps sliding off my shoulders. It’s trimmed in black lace, for crying out loud. Lace!

I stagger to my feet, nearly tripping over nothing, the satin clinging to me in ways that make my skin feel both exposed and alien. My hair brushes over my shoulders—longer than it should be. My nails? Perfectly polished. My lips? Glossy. And then there’s this ridiculous striped sleep mask tilted on my head, like some kind of cartoon princess who overslept.

I stand there, frozen, clutching at myself like I can somehow will this body back into what it’s supposed to be. My voice catches in my throat when I whisper—“This isn’t me.”

And yet, in the mirror across the room, staring back at me, is a grown woman.

Me.

But not me.