Dad and I watched a film the other day,
It was about this little puppet boy whose father brought him to life by making a wish. I didn’t think much of it at first, it was supposedly just about the misadventures about his life,
The boy, Pinocchio, became a real boy.
A boy of flesh and blood, a boy without any strings.
And it made me wonder quite a bit.
It was foolish, I know. I know that I am ‘old’ enough to understand, but I spent the next few nights praying to the stars to turn me into a ‘real girl’. I prayed and prayed and wished with all my might for the Blue Fairy to arrive.
If I could just be a 'real girl', I could be beautiful. I could grow and change like everyone else, I could leave this place and travel all over the world and not worry about my skin cracking or my arms breaking off.
But I am stuck with this awful body of mine.
Why did he have to turn into a 'real boy'?
I should've looked older by now.