A 23 nothing, out of tune

At 23, I still think that I am going to be suddenly and brilliantly found. Passively I wait for my salvation, my super-stardom, my sweet success. But I know - deep down - that I am not special. As much as I want to claw through a sentence and demand that the reader FEEL my importance, there is nothing there behind these words. I am here, and then I am not, and it does not matter, I am just matter. I am just little miss Mary - a little girl megalomaniac.

I feel lost. I feel just like a little child. I have not grown. I am like those Tenenbaum characters. Unable to move. I am just another symptom. I am a million cliches. I am awkward sentences and a paragraph that does not flow. I am stupid and silly and selfish and sad. I fear that I am not a human; I am byproduct of this society.

I want someone to hold me... to really-truly-sincerely hold me. And tell me God-damn-God-Damn, you fucking matter. I want to feel safe from human contact- not just from songs such as Coldplay's "Careful Where You Stand" or Andrew Bird's "Don't Be Scared." I want to know that I belong in this place, with these people, at this time.