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Chapter One

It was like the wind, but only I knew what it felt like. My whole world in the palm of someone else's hand and then into the marching of a springs rotation. I only had pain because I realized that soon it would be over; I only had pleasure because I realized that soon my pain would go away. I would relapse into the old ways of being tossed about, and had I recognized sooner than later I could escape, the beginnings of my march could have easily been the end of my endless game of life.

Most people can only refer to me as their truly anonymous. I can only hope that their days are numbered and that soon they can realize that I am not 'truly anonymous' but truly just known to myself. I can be what I want if I please, I can look how I want if I please, I can speak up for what is right if I please, I can be invisible to every damn person around me if I just so happen to please. I am no ones anonymous. I am someone. I am someone to somebody. I am someone to myself and they would not understand that it's hard being the only one I can count on. I have myself and that's hard. It's hard knowing that I talk to the voices I create in my head to keep myself going everyday. I count on no one, so I will be every ones 'truly anonymous' except to myself.

Furthermore, being anonymous is not that bad. I have all the silence that a librarian could want and all the imagination an artist could ask for. I like hearing myself not being heard and I like talking in ways that even I don't understand. I suppose I like being lonely, after all it's me, myself and I forever.

Forever doesn't mean anything permanent, it's more or less just a cling-on that you can take on and off for the holidays and birthdays. Plus I don't need anyone anyways, a lot of people are better off by themselves and I am one of those kinds of people. I am who I am and I like it. Who cares if I am never social, who cares if I never get married or have children or grand children or even great grand children because of it?! Certainly, probably, and most likely my family, but they don't understand; they have no clue what I'm going through. And this is why I fly solo.

I want my brown hair to be long and flow just like in the movies for peters name by golly. I would like for my eyes to drown everyone who looks into them. I want to be loved the way a cat loves catnip. I want to look like Ariels after product, not before. I want to smell like the fresh melting wax. I want to be perfect of course. However, I only want perfection for myself. I want to be the kind of messy that it's cute kind of girl. I need a lot. But, seeing the circumstances, I'm okay with being plain. I'm okay that my hair is lifeless. I'm okay with my eyes being the blue you could dip your feet it. I'm okay with loving myself the way I love a good book. I'm okay with being Ursula. I'm okay with smelling like pizza and ramen from last nights dinner. I'm okay with being overly messy. The kind of messy no one would dare to touch. I mean, at least my freckles are on point and my eyebrows are doing the fleak, or whatever the saying is.

And by the way, I'm okay. All of my 5'6" body is proportional and my weight is where it should be. I am a straight A student and I couldn't be more then the All American Girl. Except for the friends part, but that doesn't really matter; I mean I have myself.