Peter Pan.

I'm like a bittersweet cookie at the moment. Hot one minute then cold the next. I'm proud of the things I have accomplished and anxious for the future. I try to find myself at home in my skin but seize to find a place. It is as if the line has been drawn. I'm home but I am not home. I'm smiling but not inside. I get that glimpse of freedom, that glimpse of happiness at the oddest moments. The sun shining just the perfect way. Basking in the perfect weather. The slightest touch of a snow flake on my skin. When you go out and play in the snow then come back inside and cuddle in warm pj's--the little things get me. But alas, I feel like a cartoon at times. As if I am walking along the street and a giant dark cloud is hovering over me. I don't want to have a pity party but I feel like if growing up means losing all emotion and excitement then I mine as well stay a child all of my life. I will be Peter Pan. The end.