I open my eyelids and climb out of bed with more excitement than I'm sure most people would find necessary. Most people wouldn't understand why I'm excited. Most people wouldn't know, anyways. At least, not if I did everything right. The moment my bare feet touch the cold hardwood floors, I'm walking as quick as I can. When my closet door opens one of the many glass flasks scattered about the floor tip over. It's near empty so I don't bother to right it. I'm too happy to care. I'm smiling as big as my muscles will allow.

The smile slips from my face when I see that nothing in my closet has changed.

It is still the same clothing hung up on wooden hangers, in the same organized fashion. Dresses shirt to the left, with dress pants behind them. Long t-shirts and sweaters to the right, with coats behind them. The same boring shoes I've had for at least a year or two.

"Fuck," I say to nothing and no one.

With shoulders sunk down and my eyes staring at the floor, I grab a sweater and pair of pants at random. I make my way to the bathroom to change and close the door. My hand curls into a fist. I debate punching the mirror into pieces.

That this, until I see a face different from my own staring back at me.

It worked.

I am finally who I want to be.