The Last Piece Of Pineapple

More and more i am realizing how much i want someone to love me. In my world, in my once familiar life, my rooms, I am suddenly exposed alone and insecure. I dream of someone, one person in the world who i feel comfortable with sharing my every shameful secret and kinky desire, someone whose judgement i do not fear, but whose exceptance i willfully earn through odiendece. I yearn for someone who loes me for the profound essence that is me, that they listen in rapture to my stories, and allow me no shame or respite in secrets, that they want to see my baby pictures, loving even a little me, wishing to slip into to touch me in my life. I have only known one person outside of my immediate family who loves me, and remembers what I dream of, what i am most imtimately and remembers even my shallowest surface truths. The simple caring of insisting the last piece of pineapple in the orange chicken is mine, because I love pineapple.

Someone who can raise me in ways that have been neglected. While i am well versed, an old hat in matters of capable intelligence and historical and current events, i am but a stranger, a left behind child in essential other ways. I am still a child who plays with dolls, is enraptured by everything i see, laughs for no reason, has imaginary friends and has never learned that less is more. I have emerged from high school without the natural maturity of self understanding and acceptance, without my feet on the ground and my mind ensounced in reality and sense. My mind is unable to comprehend to reality, shunning painful facts and ignoring bitter truths even when confrontedhead-on by them, it only accepts what it is able to, a coping mechanism running on sunshine and self presevvation instincts too strong for my own good. Truly, I have been sheltered from the realities i have chosen to be, but no one has forced me back, to think of the practical descions and responsibilities of taking care of myself, keeping myself alive without interference or supervision. I need guidance in my every action, rules and lists, otherwise I will do nothing. Simply, I am unprepared, just not ready to live with out my reliant well-worn support system. I am at the point where there is precious little fundamental lessons my parents are capable of teaching me, past the point where their rules or customs will stick with me, where i am now, i am heavily intrenched in my beliefs what i know now may be all i am able to ever truly learn. I almost need a new parent than i need a lover, to take me in, teach me, and keep me in line, force me to do the things i really want. How in the world is it possible that i am becoming less mature, less secure as I grow up, as time passes, that I am steadily enytering my second phase of childhood as I should for all extensie purposes, be leaving it.
I am seventeen, a recent high school graduate who has done nothing yet, who has only herself to blame, and who is running short on time, on saniety, on strength to carry on in a sea of emptiness. In truth I am inexperienced, but I have allowed myself to continue on this path.
I watch my peers fall in the reciprocal love i am denied, make love and have meaningless sex, get drunk, do drugs, drive cars and crash and burn. Yet, i am nothing for doing nothing, i am not more valuable or lucky for not living

I live in a different world, I am a good girl, but I never decided to be.I was simply uninvited to the party. Its not that they hate me or dislike me in the least, its just that in my introversion in my twitching fear of unacceptance, i do not warrent even a second thought. I leave high school without a footprint in the sea, an imprint on their lives, though they have shaped me ,
There is no one I shall truly miss, no one who will truly rememberme, the girl who floated for four yearsin desperation amnd deteched fear, and refused to put down roots. I was a like porcelin doll who found herself to be less breakable then she’d ever considered.

I am just not well these days. Lately, I’ve taken to checking my set alarm over and over again before I am finally calm and assured enough to sleep. Really, its not just to remind myself that the alarm is set, that it will go off, that its at the right time. Really,its not just that I’m overly worried about the alarm not going off, and having to miss school, though I am. At the heart of things, it scares me to say, to confess, I’ve forgotten what the numbers mean, in triple checking, quadruple checking, i’m only trying to remind myself that 5:00 am is in the morning, trying desperatedly to remember if it comes before or after 4, or 12 or 1 o’clock. I cant help wonder, if i’m only losing my mind. Forgetting who i am.

I want three marriages, just like Mary Pickford or Marilyn Monroe (1 youthful lust, foolishness, 2 true love, 3 saftey )