I want to know things.
I want to know why we must die and why the sky is blue. I want to be brimming with knowledge and to be confident in what it is that I know and don’t know.
I want to experience life. To experience the pain of heartbreak, and the sunrise on the beach. I want to have experienced enough. Enough to write about “what I know”. You see my fingertips are tingling with this story.
It’s about a girl.
But that’s as far as I’ve been able to go. All I know is a girl. All I have experienced is a sad girl. A happy girl. A complex girl.
More than just “a girl”.
Her story has not started yet, even though my hands itch to write it and my heart yearns for her story to be told and to be heard.
The story that I wish so badly to write is about a girl.
A girl named Naomi.
A girl with ambition, but for what she doesn’t yet know, a girl with goals and dreams that she can feel on the tip of her tongue but refuse to stay long enough to be known. A girl who fears the inevitability of death and of growing old, a girl who wonders why and when and how and what’s the point?
A girl who wants so badly to grow up, but fears the unknown.
Just a little thing I’ll probably come back to and edit. It started out as a poem but I guess now it’s just a ramble?