Thoughts of a teenage girl who likes to sit on my roof from the perspective of the night sky or how to grow up part one

I’m a little sad. I mean- they always tell you things like “Don’t worry about the future, don’t think about the trends, about being thin, you don’t need to wear makeup- you’re not even thirteen. You’re a kid, act like it.” 

Except I’m not thirteen. As of today I’m sixteen years old. Does that mean I can officially be called ugly and lazy? It’s like, I’m old enough to be mature but at the same time old enough to be in the wrong when I choose not to be. 

I’m movie age. I’m 25-year old american actress age. I’m girlfriend age. I’m lonely and sad age.

At this point she curled up a little bit and it was difficult for me to properly see her face. Still, not impossible. Her eyes glistened with a familiar haze and I remembered the lump in my throat from when I was human. I wished to hug her. But I know she’s afraid of the dark. 

I want to go to sleep. I want to wake up to the sound of birds and the buzz of TV static instead of the absence of attention. I want to not wake up at all. 

After all this she will go to sleep all the same. She will sleep in her guilt and self-pity and she will wake up in seven hours. She will not remember this until she pours herself cereal. Then, and I know this already because it is what always happens, she will blink and she will yawn and look outside the window- I know not what follows. After all, I must depart in a short while. I’m not fit for thoughts outside of my gently terrifying embrace.