“I found myself in wonderland.”

Cleo, I am so glad you introduced me to this song.

It’s not easy, but I know that if I continue to wallow in old memories, I’ll never get to that point where I can just look back and laugh at how pathetic those people are. 

It’s summer. I’m young, in love, have great friends and family, and am- dare I say it- beautiful. I’m creating a new bedroom, new persona, and new memories. This is the perfect time in my life to flush out my old problems.

Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m not the prettiest person in the world. Maybe your shallow, pathetic judgement of me is the same as everyone else’s. Maybe it’s the same as my own. 

But the doesn’t change the fact that I am better than you. I am smart, I am kind, and more than that, I am dependable. You may think of that as a bad thing, but you’re wrong. At the end of the day, I can be counted on, and I will never treat my friends like you do.

And You. You, the one who asks me questions. The one who doesn’t understand why I don’t smoke pot, or drink. (That is the first thing on which you judge me; my responses to those questions.) You don’t know me, but I’ll tell you anyway. My lungs and my head are clear. I have no desire to fill them with blackness, with debris, with smoke. I am not looking to fill myself with hallucinations, or lies, when it’s already so difficult to tell whom to trust. I will not burn my walls down, in an attempt to make it easier to get to people like you, who label me as stranger because my answers to your questions are different then your own;

When, in truth, the label you have slapped onto me so hastily is wrong. I do not care about your choices. I do not care what you fill your lungs with, what drinks you chug in the dark. I suspect there is something churning inside of you, that fuels your desire to tear down walls of your own and start anew. But it doesn’t matter. It’s not your choices I disrespect. It’s you.