i see my younger self in those girls -- the ones with cold hands clutching pens in the dark and quiet. i read my own thoughts in their fervent wishings of lamp-posts and the magic that is real between the pages. i wonder what i would have written here, if i had been able to do that then, and what sort of pictures i would have posted on my Tumblr.
i think there would have been the same petticoats and haunted eyes but my girls would have ridden wild ponies with tangled manes.
still, i wouldn't swap my exercise books and ball-point pens or the days spent in forgotten places with myself.