Wednesday, September 15, 2010


I am like the girl with the glasses with the pink dress I cannot begin a sentence with any other character but I. I cannot do very much, I cannot love though love reaches his hands to me and into me every day (I think I have room enough but the doors refuse to open). I think there is something wrong with me the girl in the pink dress is circling her mother’s ponytail with jealous intent and holding her around the neck. I’m sorry for her eyes and I wish I could… but at least she has a pink dress, and little white shoes, I can’t wait to get alone where I can believe I can something and there’s no one to think No. But there will be no one to do for, just like there is no one inside (I never thought so little would be too much) to do for and when I get the chance I don’t do anything. I have a friend on medication that’s supposed to help her stand up but she doesn’t, or won’t, and I am not like her I am like the girl with the glasses.