ignore this?

I have nothing to say.
Nothing's new.
Nothing's interesting. 

Which reminds me, how much I miss being little. There was nothing to worry about, no big tests, no paying taxes and nothing.
Why the hell did I want to grow up?
I should have been like Peter Pan and sprinkled that pixie dust or whatever Tinkerbell had all over me. I should have SWAM in that stuff. Then I could fly and never grow up.

Screw maturity.

I think when I was little, if I could describe my life in a landscape, it would be something like this. 

Look at the pretty birds!

Now, it would be like,

No water for you!

Ha, I feel so pessimistic. I don't think I got enough sleep last night. Too busy cramming. Earg.

Ignore this post. <3 Fi

life is a slight let down.

It took me a lot of deep pre-sleep thinking to get me to realize that,

My life isn't as interesting as I had anticipated.

I know I sound extremely pessimistic,  but I can't really deny it anymore. Like many kids, I grew up watching Saturday morning cartoons consisting of super-humans and their super-awesome-sidekicks. Batman went off to fight crime everyday and had this awesome outfit. (On a side note, I was Batman when I was nine for Halloween. Yes, I idolized him that much.) In Buzz Lightyear, Buzz ends up saving the freaking world every freaking episode. Even Teletubbies had cool stuff. 

So my reasoning was that when I got as old as people in my cartoons (like, nine years of age) I would have an amazing life filled with adventures with my talking animal friends and saving the world every few minutes. 

And I dreamed that I would be a hero. I dreamed that little seven year old girls would have my picture on their bedside tables, and say to themselves, "I want to be just like her when I grow up." I dreamed that there would be a day that school would let kids stay at home to honor Fiona Day. (If Columbus could have his own day, why can't I?)

You can imagine my delight on my ninth birthday. 

Nine was my landmark year. It was a year that represented a new life, a new ME. 

And I was let down. Animals did not start talking to me. I did not have a Batmobile, nor did I have a big red dog like Clifford.

This made me think.

Maybe nine is a bit too young.

Feeling better, I decided to wait until I was ten.

And eleven.

And twelve.

And then I gave up. 

And I realized the horrible truth that my life would be boringly real for the rest of my life.

I would still have to do my homework every day.

Animals will never talk to me.

And I will never get my own day devoted to me.

So sad, so sad. <3 Fi