oh, it's lonely at the top.

there once was a girl who dreamed of something more. Something more than just endless notetaking and staring out the window in class. When her mind wanders in studies of religion, or french, or english extension it travels to world she never dreamed she could be a part of, where people swan around in a million layers of fine tulle like meringue, where the colours are muted by the feelings are bright. It's always a little chilly, the leaves always seem to be just about to fall.

Sometimes i sit at my desk and i wonder what exactly i'm doing. I go through each day of my existence and never really question it, i try and needle my mother into letting me stay out an extra hour, i blackmail my father into an extra pair of shoes. I close the doors to my teensy tiny little garotte room and let the magazine cutouts that cover the walls whisper to me tales of shoes that cost 10 000 pounds and a dress with diamond fasteners.

I'm a simple girl at heart though. I've always been happy with pink macaroons, with freshly brewed tea and newspapers and poppies and daisies. I never wanted (nor will i ever get) that million dollar apartment, the car that celebrities drive, the wardrobe the size of a house filled with couture and designer labels. I just want love, real love, real all consuming, breath slowing, drives you crazy love.

I'm coming off an awful sap, but it just hit me, sitting here at my desk, looking out my window onto the street. It's autumn, a little cold, and the leaves look like they're just about to fall. I want to call my darling friend lola up and share a glass of red wine with her, watching it all. But i can't, it's a school night.

I think the thing that makes me most happy in the world is that i can dream. I would be nothing if i didn't have my imagination.

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