You want to play Let’s Save the Broken Girl and I get it- I really do. I know that you saw Prince Charming whisk Cinderella away from a life of misery and Prince Phillip kiss Sleeping Beauty back to life. You’ve been taught since grade school that you are stronger and bigger and faster than me. You’ve been dreaming about playing Save the Broken Girl since you were 6 years old and now you’ve found me- the perfect girl to play it with.
I know you think I’d bruise like a peach if you would just reach out and press your thumb down against my skin. I know you look at my skin and think it doesn’t do a good enough job of guarding my ribs. I know you think they’d snap like tree branches if someone reached their hands in and pulled them apart.
I know you look at me biting my nails, little pink scraps of polish falling out of my mouth when I speak and think I could make her less nervous. I know you look at me sweeping my hair over my eyes and think I could make her less scared. I know you hear me ta liking about fairy tales like peter pan and think she could be my wendy
I know what I look like to you. I look like every single girl you grew up wanting to save- a bright blue eyed brown haird quite girl who seldom opend up only to her closes friends always reading or doing some form of school work.
I couldn’t be more of a cliché if I wanted to. The pretty bookworm with ghosts swimming through the the blood in her veins. The girl whose past has sewed itself to her shadow so that when the sun hits her just right, you can see every single thing that’s ever broken her heart. The girl you want to find crying in the middle of the literature section in the library so that you can take her home and tuck the blankets in around her and let her rest for the first time in years.
I know you want to save me. But you should know I don’t need to be saved. All of this-the mind like a spider web and the heart like a fly- the madness that takes me with a swirl of colors and the oblivion that covers me like bright snow- the faulty logic that never leads from point A to point B and the flickering desire for everything and nothing at the same time- this is me. And I am not something I need to be saved from. becuse you see, I dont want to be someones wendy i want to be peter pan
