July 7 4:40 AM: Can't Sleep

I miss the days of being six, a little girl
Seeing nothing wrong with the world
I miss when my biggest fear was missing One Saturday Morning
Running around in circles felt like flying

Today I am at the bright age of sixteen
The world is falling to pieces
Today I do not want to ever get out of bed
Running in circles makes me dizzy, I end up puking

I miss the time when I would play house by myself
I can still remember being Mommy Sara to my first baby doll
I wish I could go back in time and relearn my alphabet
Being myself was never a challenge

I would give anything to have a friend, I might even play house again
Mommy Sara, I hope to never hear those words again
Writing papers about dead poets and weird science, I wouldn't do it if I had the choice
No one knows Sara anymore, she had disappeared by age twelve

I can still remember begging mom for a second ice cream cone, she would always succumb to my whims
Mom and Dad were always smiling, they always beat Becky and me at Monopoly
Living a life with a clear mind and soul
I was pure, a child

Ice cream always melts before I can enjoy it
Mom is tripping on Prozac, Dad hardly comes home
A mind encumbered with false portraits of who I should be, a soul adulterated
I am no longer a child, no longer pure

I collect past memories and compose a mental scrapbook
Unfortunately, the present is what matters
A six year old Sara wished to remain in her six year old world, a contemporary Peter Pan
But sixteen year old Sara is stuck, trying so hard to get out of hers