Funny how the things that I used to like, I just don't anymore. Like someone wiped the dust from the window and holy pink pigs flying I can now see out the window! You mean that was all I had to do all this time? And I sat there for so long looking out and imagining a surreal little picket fence world. I don't want surreal anymore. I want reality. Sweet compassionate caring reality. Not idealized dreams of a silly girl who liked to like things that were bad for her. I am learning that I like being happy and being around people who dust me in fairy dust and make me feel like I can fly. Like some twisted spin off of Peter Pan I feel like jumping off my bed in my nightie, spreading my arms and feeling that weightlessness for a split second. That childlike bliss of floating, and all that deluded time I thought I wanted to sink below the waters, thought it would make me happier to surround myself with someone who I couldn't seem to work it out with. Time after time the self proclaimed fixer would fail and she finally realized that in looking for things that don't need fixing she could be so much happier. That she would be rewarded with golden sparkling powder that could make her fly. She doesn't ever want to drown again.