Story of a Girl

This is the story of a girl who isn’t quite sure what she wants out of life, and spends most of her time feeling confused and wondering. She like indie music that she gets online (legally, I promise) and dabbles in novel writing and poetry, frequently wondering if it is plausible that she make a career out of it. She often stands in her bathroom in the morning and wonders if she could write nonfiction books, travel around the world giving speeches and starting organizations for struggling children and teens, all while somehow managing time for a very large family. Other times she feels sure she is destined to grow up alone, live in a city apartment somewhere as a freelance journalist and author with lots of cats that makes everyday visits to a certain, unique coffee shop (one her imagination came up with).

The funny thing is, she can see both scenarios in her mind, clear as day. It’s as if they were memories, not predictions of the future. Both seem as desirable as the other, and as unattractive. She feels she would enjoy life either way, and be as and lonely either way. And she’s not sure which path to choose.

You see, the thing is, this girl has known since she was young, if unconsciously for a time, that she would desire to be some sort of writer when she grew up. Her first poem was written at age 4, and short stories followed soon after. Most ended up being silly and practically plot-less, or even completely unfinished; but the point was that she liked writing. Liked it then, and still does. There comes a thrill in finding the right word to express one’s feelings, mixing ink on a page in a form of art different and more constructed than any other. The problem starts with her haphazard moods that change as frequently and randomly as the Iowa weather. One day her emotion leans so strongly in one direction that she is quizzical as to why the other option even arose in the first place. Five minutes later, the feeling is gone, and with its leave comes the daydreams of another, opposite, life. Of one thing she is certain: she wants to write something that will change the world, or at least make people think for a while.


I promise, I’m not crazy. Or maybe I am. I guess we’ll never know. Maybe we are all a little bit crazy. And weird. But after all, if no one was weird, we would all be normal, and where’s the fun in that? So even though this is long and maybe confusing, and mostly a ramble of nonsense, I guess it’s my way of being weird.


Maybe one day the girl will stop dreaming and figure out where she’s supposed to be. And maybe, just maybe, it will be one of the places she’s dreamed of, or an incredible mix of both.