Who died and made you king?

Water stains drip accross the mirror coming to rest at the bottom. A girl stares back at me, kind blue eyes, soft blonde hair. She seems familiar but distant. Happy. Is this really me? This face in the mirror, pretty, but not quite gorgeous, tired, but not quite sleepy. Sometimes im not sure. So many changes have replaced the one i used to see. Each day my reflection seems different. Yet i feel the same, grown up a little, changed imperceptibly as my reflection was. But when i look back the outside is more changed than the inside, like a marshmallow burned in a fire. The outside crisp while the inside is just beginning to melt, the middle still so cold. For now, im happy with who i am, outside in, even with such disconnect. So i wont bother to change, but how long will this balance last i dont know.