Yesterday evening, I discovered innocence was completely dissolved.
Gathered up with the wind and leaves, it was carried elsewhere, never to return.
Long ago I choreographed dances alongside family, sang and plotted in my childhood bedroom with the lime-green walls, and aspired for the things I fear now.
How I forget how hopeful I truly was.
I dreamed of tomorrow, knowing one day I’d become everything I couldn’t be then.
I watch burgundy and copper leaves cling to trees either in fear or anticipation.
I do wonder when they’ll fall, or if winter will come to destroy them first.
Either way, they will still fall.
I’m not as impressive as I used to be.
Like a tacky, dust-coated participatory trophy.
Is what I do simply expected?
“She’s always striving”… only because she has to.
I can no longer be the sad, bruised little girl if I intend on becoming anything.
Instead, I’ve become an evil girl.
An evil, wretched girl.
How I taunt myself, make others my enemy without their knowledge, and think myself into a deep ocean of oblivion.
Is it the curse of the shy little girl who now needs to be outspoken and noticed?
Who also shrinks under the gaze of strangers?
If I’m not careful, I’ll become a rhinestone, the unlucky cousin of a dazzling jewel.
I would do anything for you.
You, who is cruel, self-destructive, attention-seeking, desperate…
You, who are falling behind so pathetically,
(And yet this was supposed to be your dream)
You, who writes this very sentence…
I’m not a little girl anymore. To my complete and utter horror.
Be kind, for you’re the only one who comprehends me entirely.
For I love too hard and disappoint too easily.
That means I’ll always need you.
You who are so often evil.