when you wish upon a star

thinking about how long this blog has been with me,
and what it has seen me go through.

sometimes it's hard to imagine that i was ever in the places i was in,
even if there's evidence to prove it.

other times, it's a reminder that no matter where you go,
you are always the same person.

today,
i felt overwhelmingly alone.



i've realized that i've fallen into a rut of hanging out with pretty much the same crowd all the time. it's nice to have a solid group of friends, but now that a good half of them have left for the weekend, it's a little bit difficult to feel okay about it. i remember times when i would have killed to have a "group" that i fit into. now i'm wondering if all those times wandering independently weren't the right way to go after all.
then there's that awkward moment when just as you're telling someone about your day, your year, your life - you realize they won't be there forever. they might not even be there tomorrow.

he might be leaving tomorrow.

and that sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach as you realize that as you've been bitching this whole time about your own problems, they've been dealing with their own. and while dealing with their own, they've been patiently listening to you whine and groan. and you realize that their problems are infinitely more important, more significant than yours.
how can the struggle to be wanted be compared on any level to the struggle to live?
and yet, even as i sit here and feel terrible for talking to him about my stupid, trivial, school-girl problems, i feel incredibly sad that he might be leaving and that i might never be able to do that again. i can't help but wonder who i can talk to about this if he leaves. i can't help but think,
"me. me. me."




for once in my life,
i'd like to be a real girl.
i feel like pinocchio,
but it's true.

i'm living in this wooden body because it's all i know,
it's all that's gotten me this far because
you can't make wood bleed.
you can't make wood cry.

and all i want is to not be confined to this [lumber]ing case anymore,
to be real flesh and bone, which can tear and break.

and the truth is that i'm not even as invulnerable as i appear,
because all the artsy analogies in the world will not change the fact that i am, in fact, a human being. and i bleed when i'm cut. and i cry when i'm hurt.

and i just want to be recognized as and treated like a GIRL,
who is feminine and delicate and cute and fragile and dainty,
instead of constantly wearing this suffocating mask of
strength and confidence and power.

i don't want to be dominant.

my ideal life is that of a housewife.

but i can't.



and everything that everyone else sees is a fucking lie.
i am none of the things that i make you think i am.



none of this even makes sense anymore.