Once, There was A Library in my Closet

If I was a Little Person

If I wasn't a little person, why can I think these thoughts? Why can I see your face? Hear your words? One day I am suddenly here. I don't know how, or why, but I just... am. So quickly, I just am.

You always seem so fond of me. You're always the first face I see, and you're always happy. I wake up a thousand times and you're there, shining a ray of sun to welcome me. I should be afraid, I think, of something as massive as you; You are a giant - a giant in a weird, familiar shape - but you are so kind. You care so sweetly. 

I love seeing your face when I wake up.

But I see myself - a frail, flimsy, immobile creature. I cannot move, not unless I wake up in a different position. You wake me up differently each time. I want to move like you do, giant. You and the strange marks that form me make that wish come true for a moment. But I long to walk with you. I long to be a little person so that you do not have to wake me up to see the world through your eyes. Your big, beaming, sunshine eyes.

What's this? Why aren't you smiling? You wake me up again, but you don't seem happy. You, you wonderful beast, confuse me so much. You're always happy. It makes me happy. But you're sad, so what am I supposed to do? I want to comfort you, but how? I'm not a little person who can wipe away your tears. 

Why can't I wake up? Why won't you wake me up? It's getting so lonely... After all the times you've woken me, I no longer feel the blank time that passes in an instant. Now I can feel how long you are gone. I can feel how long I wait for you to wake me. Why aren't you? I don't like being in dark places.

You've... Returned... You are still sad. Why can't you see it makes me sad, too? You are always there. You are my teacher, my mother, my idol - don't be sad. You are too important to be sad. You are too loved. If only I was a little person and I'd finally be able to shout it out! 

Where are you going now? Don't leave yet! Please!

The light from your lamp is blinding me. I wish you'd come back and turn it off.

If I wasn't a little person, then why do I suddenly feel a lift in my spirit? Why do I wake on my own? Why do I move freely? Should I even worry about such questions? All I did was wish to see you again.

If I wasn't a little person, surely I wouldn't be able to finally look up to see the details of your room - warm from sunlight, quiet besides the huge fan on your ceiling. Surely I wouldn't be able to take a step off the huge white mass I stand on and over the colored trees I always see you holding.

I can see you there, giant. I see you curled up on a fluffy bed. You are so still that I almost think you are sleeping, but your eyes are peeking across into nothing. Are you pretending? No, I think you're still refusing to wake me.

Don't be sad, mother, I'm here. I climbed across your huge lair all on my own. Aren't you proud? Can't you feel me, mother? Can't you feel me pull your hair out of your face? Can't you feel your tears finally being wiped away? I'm here, mother. I'm here.

I'm here, mother, I'm here.

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Imagine you were nothing but an idea, but grew more alive with every little detail your creator gave you. How different does that make you from a growing child? There are some people that underestimate just how special these "little people" are to their artists.