020313 -- Neon Manic Pixie Dream Girl
Feb. 3rd, 2013 04:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
memorialrainbowI am a neon manic pixie dream girl.
If I could only be paid for this job. My want ad would look something like this: "wanted: girl with no ambitions of her own to drive others to do their best." Although, to be honest, I'm rather good at this. I've only been trained in it my entire life.
A neon manic pixie dream girl is like a regular manic pixie dream girl, except with magical powers. For I just wave my staff and say, "Look at me! I'm wonderful and fantastic and you want to be with me! But enough about me and my wonderful (insert event that brought us together) here. Let's talk about your dying self esteem and how to make it better."
Somewhere between becoming a pixie and today, I forgot how to properly love.
Instead, I fly by the seat of my pants with dream girl duties, knowing that if I receive love, it's okay if I don't properly know how to love back. I give of my time and my energy and my money and my cranes, to whomever needs it. And if I'm lucky -- if I'm REALLY lucky, which wasn't the case last year -- then I'll get at least something back.
The night grows dark, dim. An angel with one wing sits alone in the window, staring at the calendar full of penguins.
You see it happening, don't you? You know exactly what I'm talking about. You don't know why you like me. You just do. You've come into contact with my writing, or with my music, or with something else that has got you completely and inexplicably attracted to me. And because I am the neon manic pixie dream girl, because attention is what I thrive off of, I save you, time and time again. I always save you. Your name may change, your physical form may differ from person to person, but as long as I thrive off this energy I will never die.
I keep trying to stop it, now that I've realized what's going on. And yet, you keep coming back, clinging to my arm, wanting to hang out, to be with me, to ANYTHING. And since I'm so used to it, I can't break anything off. I keep 'loving' you, no matter how it hurts.
A nap would be ideal. But I can't sleep this off.
I continue to manipulate the system, to make everybody blissfully, unaware, happy. It's what I've always done. I am everybody's neon manic pixie dream girl. But as long as I am this pixie girl, I will never properly be Emily.
But if I'm the pixie girl, if it's my job to save everybody -- then who will properly save me?
I dream in black and white because there is no color left. I no longer notice my surroundings. You tried -- once -- to save me, but I stood in my kitchen and tried to run as your words made me into perfectly cut sushi rolls. And yet, I still invite you over to spend the night. All last year, I insisted that God no longer loved me, that my destiny was to be unhappy and unwanted, and part of that was because of the nightmare I was lost in.
I was your neon manic pixie dream girl. A role that you try to force upon me time and time again. You tell me to get off the train, and I am lost in my usual indecision -- I live for your dreams. Part of me knows you never wanted it this way, but you suffocate me too hard to remind me.
There's only one reminder that I'm not a neon manic pixie dream girl -- and that's because I know in my heart that I'm someone's sweet girl.
I'm so busy going downtown that I don't even notice the five train at 96th Street until it rolls into the station. "This is a Brooklyn-bound 5 express train, via the 7th Avenue Line. The next stop is 72nd Street."
My sweet girl.
I've been the dream girl for two and a half years, and it got me nowhere. And yet, simply by existing, I have found love. What about you? Do you live your life for someone else, wanting it to mean something, forgoing all of your dreams for this one person? I want someone real, not a manic pixie dream guy who only saves me when it's convenient.
This WORLD is real. With its problems, and its flaws, and its buildings and mountains and seas and electrified subway tracks.
And this time, I'll ride the 5 train to Flatbush Avenue, to the end of the world, because I know my destiny as something more than a neon manic pixie dream girl awaits me there.
And I won't look back.
If I could only be paid for this job. My want ad would look something like this: "wanted: girl with no ambitions of her own to drive others to do their best." Although, to be honest, I'm rather good at this. I've only been trained in it my entire life.
A neon manic pixie dream girl is like a regular manic pixie dream girl, except with magical powers. For I just wave my staff and say, "Look at me! I'm wonderful and fantastic and you want to be with me! But enough about me and my wonderful (insert event that brought us together) here. Let's talk about your dying self esteem and how to make it better."
Somewhere between becoming a pixie and today, I forgot how to properly love.
Instead, I fly by the seat of my pants with dream girl duties, knowing that if I receive love, it's okay if I don't properly know how to love back. I give of my time and my energy and my money and my cranes, to whomever needs it. And if I'm lucky -- if I'm REALLY lucky, which wasn't the case last year -- then I'll get at least something back.
The night grows dark, dim. An angel with one wing sits alone in the window, staring at the calendar full of penguins.
You see it happening, don't you? You know exactly what I'm talking about. You don't know why you like me. You just do. You've come into contact with my writing, or with my music, or with something else that has got you completely and inexplicably attracted to me. And because I am the neon manic pixie dream girl, because attention is what I thrive off of, I save you, time and time again. I always save you. Your name may change, your physical form may differ from person to person, but as long as I thrive off this energy I will never die.
I keep trying to stop it, now that I've realized what's going on. And yet, you keep coming back, clinging to my arm, wanting to hang out, to be with me, to ANYTHING. And since I'm so used to it, I can't break anything off. I keep 'loving' you, no matter how it hurts.
A nap would be ideal. But I can't sleep this off.
I continue to manipulate the system, to make everybody blissfully, unaware, happy. It's what I've always done. I am everybody's neon manic pixie dream girl. But as long as I am this pixie girl, I will never properly be Emily.
But if I'm the pixie girl, if it's my job to save everybody -- then who will properly save me?
I dream in black and white because there is no color left. I no longer notice my surroundings. You tried -- once -- to save me, but I stood in my kitchen and tried to run as your words made me into perfectly cut sushi rolls. And yet, I still invite you over to spend the night. All last year, I insisted that God no longer loved me, that my destiny was to be unhappy and unwanted, and part of that was because of the nightmare I was lost in.
I was your neon manic pixie dream girl. A role that you try to force upon me time and time again. You tell me to get off the train, and I am lost in my usual indecision -- I live for your dreams. Part of me knows you never wanted it this way, but you suffocate me too hard to remind me.
There's only one reminder that I'm not a neon manic pixie dream girl -- and that's because I know in my heart that I'm someone's sweet girl.
I'm so busy going downtown that I don't even notice the five train at 96th Street until it rolls into the station. "This is a Brooklyn-bound 5 express train, via the 7th Avenue Line. The next stop is 72nd Street."
My sweet girl.
I've been the dream girl for two and a half years, and it got me nowhere. And yet, simply by existing, I have found love. What about you? Do you live your life for someone else, wanting it to mean something, forgoing all of your dreams for this one person? I want someone real, not a manic pixie dream guy who only saves me when it's convenient.
This WORLD is real. With its problems, and its flaws, and its buildings and mountains and seas and electrified subway tracks.
And this time, I'll ride the 5 train to Flatbush Avenue, to the end of the world, because I know my destiny as something more than a neon manic pixie dream girl awaits me there.
And I won't look back.
