I guess I've always had this knack for writing. As I sit at my desktop, Friday night, reviewing my old files for some weekend-kick, I find something I wrote, very literally, on the eve of my birthday- the transition time between my sweet 16th year and my, what would turn out to be, sour 17th. It is a description of my life- the person I am, the person I aspire to be. I'll leave it here- for the simple reason that its time I write a new one; as I read it over, I've seen how it emvbodies the person I was, not who I am any longer...well, then again...that's for you to decide =)
Listen, my dears, and you will hear the story of a girl ♥
Now, this isn't a story like all those other fairy tales you kids live off of. There are no princes, daring swordfights, magic spells, dragons, evil sorceresses or all that jazz, even though, that was all she dreamt of. It is just the simple story of a simple girl just simply trying to live. She was just a girl, not a day over 17. She wasn't what one would consider popular; she didn't wear the newest and most expensive fashions and she didn't give in to everything deemed cool for the time. She was a nerd, a loser in every sense of the word. She broke her glasses often, and she often spent Fridays at home with a book. She didn’t drink, she didn’t smoke and she never did any drugs. She tumbled down stairs as frequently as possible and tripped up them just as often. She might not have been popular, but God was she well loved. She surrounded herself with the people who made her happy, the people who made her laugh, smile, and cry, scream, and raise every emotion she never thought she had. These girls completed her life, and she would have never survived her high school years without them. They were there when she was down, when she was up, when she needed a shoulder, as she was there when they needed her no matter what. They saw past everything else, really saw her soul, and that’s all that mattered, both to them and to her. She wasn’t what one considered “wildly gorgeous”, and she definitely wasn’t one of those model type girls. She was beautiful in her own way, with delicate and soft features, though most saw her as being more on the hard side. Her conceit and self-absorption certainly came off as strong, but not even she could lie about it, it was a cover-up to hide her own visions of her perfectly plentiful flaws. She was perfectly flawed and that was all right. She was ingeniously smart, although it didn’t always show. She had the brains any man would die for, but it was all at academia. She could quote the best of any classical author, whether it was Homer or Margaret Mitchell. She lived for the arts, and only felt at peace with herself when she was simply drawing. It was her smallest joy in life, that reaped the greatest rewards and achievements she ever thought would be possible in her mediocre life. She had the drive, the ambition, the desire, and god damn she could really draw as of late, but it still wasn’t enough to her. It was her only hole to confide in, her drawings were her only things to hold on to, her security, her being. Quite frankly, it was her only constant, the only thing in life she could truly control. While the rest of her life crumbled around her, it was her only perfection. She was articulate, outgoing, warm and giving; intelligent in every sense of the word.
Once let out into the outside world, forced to deal with real issues, real people- life, she was a failure. She searched and searched for love, the truest love, the one you find in those fairy tales. She constantly waited for the day her prince would come, come and take her far away from her world on his white horse. She was influenced and led by Disney and a world of make-believe, where in the end of every story, there would be a happy ending, no sorrow, no heartbreak; a happily ever after. Such a story never happened for her. Time after time she gave her heart away, never receiving anything back in return. She always fell fast and hard, and for all the wrong ones; the ones that would take her breath away, the ones who would help her to deny her better judgment. A big smile and a gorgeous pair of eyes could set her off for months, helping her hold on to him tighter and tighter, never to let go. Her stories were always the same; the gorgeous guy would sweep her off of her feet, flash a smile and she’d be hooked. Friendliness to her was always perceived as love, because she truly never knew any better. She always held on too tight, because she always lost them in the end, and always to someone better than her. There was always someone better than her in their eyes. When properly sized up, the other girl really didn’t have all that much on her. The truth remained the same; she was ready to love but there was no one worth her devotion. Because of these bad relationships, she beat her self up emotionally, tearing herself apart over people not worth her time. She cries often, and wrecks herself on why she is still alone. She tells herself over and over again and eventually convinced herself that she hadn’t met the right one, while she really knew deep down she wasn’t good enough.
The story isn’t a Cinderella story, where the one magically sweeps in and saves her from her solitude. No villain is against her; her only enemy is time. There are no obstacles, magic spells, just the magic lacking from her life. There aren’t two handsome princes fighting over her, where the one she truly loves triumphs over the undeserving opposing suitor. It ends without a prince, without the big white wedding, without the happily ever after. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t a happy ending. She’ll eventually teach herself to pick herself up, and to move on. She’ll see, once again, how much she has to offer, and eventually she’ll be all right and pull herself together. She always does.
I always do.
Now, this isn't a story like all those other fairy tales you kids live off of. There are no princes, daring swordfights, magic spells, dragons, evil sorceresses or all that jazz, even though, that was all she dreamt of. It is just the simple story of a simple girl just simply trying to live. She was just a girl, not a day over 17. She wasn't what one would consider popular; she didn't wear the newest and most expensive fashions and she didn't give in to everything deemed cool for the time. She was a nerd, a loser in every sense of the word. She broke her glasses often, and she often spent Fridays at home with a book. She didn’t drink, she didn’t smoke and she never did any drugs. She tumbled down stairs as frequently as possible and tripped up them just as often. She might not have been popular, but God was she well loved. She surrounded herself with the people who made her happy, the people who made her laugh, smile, and cry, scream, and raise every emotion she never thought she had. These girls completed her life, and she would have never survived her high school years without them. They were there when she was down, when she was up, when she needed a shoulder, as she was there when they needed her no matter what. They saw past everything else, really saw her soul, and that’s all that mattered, both to them and to her. She wasn’t what one considered “wildly gorgeous”, and she definitely wasn’t one of those model type girls. She was beautiful in her own way, with delicate and soft features, though most saw her as being more on the hard side. Her conceit and self-absorption certainly came off as strong, but not even she could lie about it, it was a cover-up to hide her own visions of her perfectly plentiful flaws. She was perfectly flawed and that was all right. She was ingeniously smart, although it didn’t always show. She had the brains any man would die for, but it was all at academia. She could quote the best of any classical author, whether it was Homer or Margaret Mitchell. She lived for the arts, and only felt at peace with herself when she was simply drawing. It was her smallest joy in life, that reaped the greatest rewards and achievements she ever thought would be possible in her mediocre life. She had the drive, the ambition, the desire, and god damn she could really draw as of late, but it still wasn’t enough to her. It was her only hole to confide in, her drawings were her only things to hold on to, her security, her being. Quite frankly, it was her only constant, the only thing in life she could truly control. While the rest of her life crumbled around her, it was her only perfection. She was articulate, outgoing, warm and giving; intelligent in every sense of the word.
Once let out into the outside world, forced to deal with real issues, real people- life, she was a failure. She searched and searched for love, the truest love, the one you find in those fairy tales. She constantly waited for the day her prince would come, come and take her far away from her world on his white horse. She was influenced and led by Disney and a world of make-believe, where in the end of every story, there would be a happy ending, no sorrow, no heartbreak; a happily ever after. Such a story never happened for her. Time after time she gave her heart away, never receiving anything back in return. She always fell fast and hard, and for all the wrong ones; the ones that would take her breath away, the ones who would help her to deny her better judgment. A big smile and a gorgeous pair of eyes could set her off for months, helping her hold on to him tighter and tighter, never to let go. Her stories were always the same; the gorgeous guy would sweep her off of her feet, flash a smile and she’d be hooked. Friendliness to her was always perceived as love, because she truly never knew any better. She always held on too tight, because she always lost them in the end, and always to someone better than her. There was always someone better than her in their eyes. When properly sized up, the other girl really didn’t have all that much on her. The truth remained the same; she was ready to love but there was no one worth her devotion. Because of these bad relationships, she beat her self up emotionally, tearing herself apart over people not worth her time. She cries often, and wrecks herself on why she is still alone. She tells herself over and over again and eventually convinced herself that she hadn’t met the right one, while she really knew deep down she wasn’t good enough.
The story isn’t a Cinderella story, where the one magically sweeps in and saves her from her solitude. No villain is against her; her only enemy is time. There are no obstacles, magic spells, just the magic lacking from her life. There aren’t two handsome princes fighting over her, where the one she truly loves triumphs over the undeserving opposing suitor. It ends without a prince, without the big white wedding, without the happily ever after. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t a happy ending. She’ll eventually teach herself to pick herself up, and to move on. She’ll see, once again, how much she has to offer, and eventually she’ll be all right and pull herself together. She always does.
I always do.
