We as Humans

Manic Pixie Dream Girl.

I want to be someone's manic pixie dream girl. I want to come hurdling in with all this knowledge and destroy someone and rebuild them to be better and only show the traits of myself that make me addictive. I want to be two dimensional in the way that it will never click for them that I have the kind of flaws that make me a pathetically normal human. I want to have that striking feature and mysterious quote and to disappear one day, leaving a void because I changed so much and now I'm gone. I want to be the dream that isn't realistic and is treasured when they're forced back to reality that wouldn't last a second outside the field I created.

Instead I know nothing about the world and I have flaws that weigh like anchors, holding me to be disgustingly three dimensional. I can't leave and I hold no mystery in me and I have nothing to show; no place or concept or riveting thought that will haunt someone when I'm gone. I am stuck here. There is nowhere to disappear to and if I were to die all that would remain is the gross kind of remembrance of loss that would morph me into an angel instead of the hurricane that I want to be. I am not a hurricane. I am not a flower. I am not a storm. I am not a metaphor. I am a human.

But I don't want to be a human.

I want to be a manic pixie dream girl.

I want to be a hurricane.

But I'm no ones anything.