I'm going to be so different. I will be better, stronger, more grown up. Maybe a better friend. And a better lover. Or a better fighter. I will be brave. I will be confident. I will.
Night after night and day after day, I look to the wrong person when I loose my way.
Oh you are a little girl. Pretending to be things you see. Asking what things you can take. Well you'll scream and you'll fight with it, fake and desire for it, but you will never ever be happy.
Give me something I can feel right about.
Give me a reason to grow old.
Give me pride in myself and for the things that I have done.
But take away the shame and take away the fear. And take away the person I don't want to be anymore. And take away my hands and my eyes, so I can learn to rely on God.
I've been thinking about this a lot lately, because my whole life I've bombarded my mind with images of princes and princesses and divine intervention and Meg Ryan seeing Tom Hanks at the top of the Empire State Building and all those gloriously inglorious musings of regular people at long tables.
They are people who don't realize what they do. They don't know that somewhere some 12 year old girl will see their story on television and think that her future husband will run to her in an airport and tell her that he was wrong, he does want three kids and a dog and a small house in Vienna. And he doesn't care about her insensibilities and her selfish desire to spend all day in bed with morning breath. He doesn't want someone skinny and white, he wants the patchy yellow skinned, bent nose, chubby thighed mistake that she is. He wants her mood swings and her high pitched chipmunk impersonations. Her messy desk and her terrible cooking.
No, I think I have it all figured out. He won't see me at a party and fall in love with me from across the room, he will instead fail to notice me as I make up the rest of our lives together. Because we are not strings being sewn into masterpieces for the gods, we are merely just wandering around and waiting for our number to be called. And we can wait, or we can leave. But no one will do it for you.
Well, I'd rather be a part of something much more selfish.
Because I am abnormal and also unwanted.
So here's to John Cusack's boom box and Ducky at the prom. Here's to Molly Ringwald's red hair, and that scene at the end where they meet each other on the ice and just know. To the leading ladies and to their less attractive best friends, who usually end up having sex with the creepy guy. Here's to immaculate commitment. Here's to the end.
All I used to think about was the day he'd sweep me off my feet. But now I'm just hoping he doesn't hit.
I wanted to do something that deserves to be talked about. Because I'm a bad sister and a bad lover and a bad student and writing was the only thing I thought would redeem me. It's my last plea for guidance, my last second chance.
I'm afraid that my lack of a past is a sign that I don't really exist. My mind is plagued by snapshot images of nights in front of the television and folding laundry with my mom. Movies and car rides and sunset colored walks through trees. The haunted playhouse and Hilary Duff. I'm afraid that I made it all up. Because I can't hear anyone, and I can't remember what they look like. I can't see more than 5 seconds. I can't find what I should have never forgotten.
I'm afraid that you'll tell me the truth about everything, and I won't be me anymore. I'm afraid of waking up one day and looking 60 years old and not knowing how I got there. Not knowing why I can't run as fast as I used to and why I never had any kids.
I'm afraid that you'll forget all about me, like I have forgotten you. So easily. So shamelessly.
I think that even if I do end up with my handprints in the sidewalk, I'll still feel this way. No matter how many vague metaphors I make or how many songs I listen to. Even if I do end up making that movie about the girl who doesn't fall in love in the end. Even if I do end up giving that acceptance speech. I'm not ever going to move on. I'm not ever going to be satisfied.
What I'm trying to say is that I wanted to be fixed. I wanted to be able to get up and out and not stress about making small talk. I wanted to make you laugh. And I wanted to exist.
