tonight's melancholy muse
I bared all @ 10:20 p.m. on 2004-12-19
i miss being little. when you're little, nothing really matters, not money, not status, not your car, your house, your relationship status...
when you're little, you're classified by what you do, the stigma gets laid on the smelly kid, not the misfit.
when i was little, i thought i could grow up and become anything, even a butterfly. everyone was always telling what i could do, where i could be, how pretty i was, what a sweet girl i was, how well-behaved.
now, people tell me what i can't, who i'm not, label every flaw for easier identification, tell me what's impossible.
why can't i be five again, or at least have that unsullied hope back?
i don't care that i couldn't reach the highest shelf (i still can't, that's what chairs are for) or that i was placated by many-- sometimes, i'd rather be placated than discouraged or trod upon.
i don't want to grow up; i want to grow down.
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