It’s starting again. The sleepless nights, meandering up and down the chutes and ladders, going back three spaces and losing myself only to turn around and realize that I am back where I needed to be. Hop scotching down the tiles of brightly lit gumdrops, coming to a sudden stop at the sight of an unsightly mop that obviously had a handle on things, so I let it go on its way, on my way, through the milky way of glittering stickers and stamps that glow so pleasantly, so alluringly.

Open the door and stumble into a world of pink frills, of lacy thrills, and wonder when Barbie became Bulimic. “It’s about time,” I say as I swim through the masses, feeling as though I’m in molasses, sticky, sweet kind, sickeningly, sweet kind,  and I pull myself out before I let myself be pulled in by the flow and get swept up in the unrelenting tide of expectations.

I find you off the beaten path, a tea party in motion, your furry friends and neighbors at undivided attention. You offer me a cup and ask if I want some tea and I nod my head and say, “Certainly.” You smile as you pour your liquid happiness into my cup and I ask you what your favorite color is and smile when you say, “You.” I take a sip and close my eyes and let myself fly free.

I land in a plush mountain of fairy tales and lullabies and feel my body burn in shame as the fireflies light around me and I wonder what it would take for me to be like them, to burn like them, to be as alive as they are. I stand, my arms held wide, my eyes closed and hope for rain because in the end, we’re all just going to be washed away.