Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Wild Thing dinnertime.
Have you ever wished for something so selfishly that every time it crosses your mind you find yourself stuck in a whole lot of guilt-mud?
But you keep wishing, don't you? You keep wishing because the second you stop wishing with every fiber of your soul, for even just a single moment, and allow yourself to consider what might happen if your wish doesn't make good, your breath gets all shallow and your legs get all shaky and all of your words loose their shape in your throat.
So you wish some more because you have to breathe like a real person and you want to be able to walk and have a real conversation, but you can't do either of those if your legs or your words aren't working.
And before you know it, you're using every wish you can - 11:11 wishes, dandelion wishes, shooting star wishes, left-over glitter wishes, birthday wishes, Christmas wishes. You've quit using them to wish for an orange kitten or to wish that someone will leave this this dress from Urban Outfitters on your porch in a cute little box with your name on it or even wish that that boy - that one with the adorable sixties haircut - will kiss you and it will be all perfect. You're using every wish you can on that selfish wish of yours, aren't you?
Well, maybe you aren't. But I am.
And I'll just keep wishing and wishing and wishing until the Wild Things eat me all up until all that's left is a big bowl of guilt and a dull, selfish ache.
And the clocks were striking thirteen.
All my love,
P.S. It's fine if you leave that dress on my porch in a cute little box with my name on it. In fact, my birthday is soon, so it's perfect, probably.