Splinters

I'm getting old. I'm annoyed by eight-year-olds and loved by adults. It used to be the other way around, I swear. 

I'm afraid I've started giving up on my ambition, and when my mom asks me what I'm going to do with my life I can't seem to remember my 10 year plan. That plan I've had for years where I travel and find myself and if I'm lucky, fall in love. All I can think of to say is something about ending up alone and with 20 cats, because they're better friends than people.

 I eat raw fish, which is something only sophisticated people do. And those pretending to be civilized. I get annoyed by the music on the radio, and the other day I caught myself calling it "noise."

I have chronic migraines. I'm protective. I'm scared.  I stay home on Saturday nights. I use big words. My hair is changing color, and I refuse to dye it. I'm afraid to use the word love, because I don't want to lie. I watch movies for their cinematography.

My mom is on the phone until 5 in the morning, and I eat dinner at 4.

I sat down to write about how I'm losing my innocence. I sat down to write about the process of aging, but here's the catch: I'm still so young. I giggle at health class lingo. I stutter when I'm talking to a cute boy... I still use the phrase "cute boy." As hard as I try, I still don't like Raisin Bran.  I want to show off my A on the latest calculus test, but I still have to think twice about how to spell calculous. The thought of choosing a major scares me half to death. I tell people I love them, even when I don't. I still want to cry every time I don't get asked to a dance. Part of me still believes I can be an astronaut. I laugh really loud. I play music even louder. And I want desperately to be pretty.

I'm young at heart, but old at mind.

I'm in it for the music

All I need is someone who understands me. Someone who won't judge me based on the facts, someone who knows the scars on my back are nothing to worry about.  I need someone who will never ask me to buy a lottery ticket, because of lost elementary school bingo games and hundreds of empty cereal boxes. I want someone who will order for me at Subway.

I need someone who will travel the world, someone who will follow me to far off places and find beauty in poverty and in wealth. I want someone who dreams in black and white some nights, and in color others. I need someone who reads. Who can find themselves in the protagonist of classic novels, and who brackets and underlines, but never highlights. I need someone who can escape without leaving the room, and only by turning pages.

I need someone who will ignore my flaws, and never mock my disadvantages. Trust me, I'm aware of them. I need someone who knows when to quit and when to never stop. I need someone with common sense, and good taste in scents. Let me clarify: I don't need someone who enjoys the smell of lavender.

I'd like someone who wears silk and drinks tea in the afternoons because they actually like tea, and not because they think that's what I want them to do. And I'd really love someone who never says the word "poop."

I need someone who laughs at me Hitler jokes and wonders why Daniel Radcliff doesn't use his wand against the Woman in Black. I need someone, and they must appreciate puns. I need someone who listens to old bands and watches old movies.

I want someone who drops to the floor when bad news sneaks up on them, and screams when they see it coming. I need someone who cries during Nearer My God To Thee and when the Titanic sinks. I need someone who hates save-the-aquatic-wild-life movies.

I want someone who chooses to go to school and actually shows a little respect once in a while. I need someone who likes differentiable equations and integration.

I'd like someone with all ten fingers. Toes are optional.

Boys Drool