paper crowns and broken hearts

When I’m having a bad day I like to come home and put on a little Joshua Radin (he’s amazing-check him out) and if my roomies aren’t home I put on the cardboard tiara I kept from New Year’s and daydream about better days. I let myself get lost in thought about wonderful things. Lately I try to imagine myself grown up. Every time I peek in on my future self she’s doing something different. One day she is a gypsy in a field of flowers dancing to the music in her head. Another day she is in the middle of Rockefeller Center ice-skating underneath the giant sparkly Christmas tree. Today she is doing the exact same thing I am. Except her tiara is especially glittery and Mr. Radin is serenading her from the bottom floor of her third story apartment. I can’t quite see them, but I’d like to think she has stars in her eyes. For I believe that if they are indeed starry she has found happiness; in herself, in her family, in those who surround her.
Love has proven to be quite a sticky word. Not just the word itself, but all of the situations that come with the vague definition. I often wonder if such a delicate bond between two people is meant to last the test of time, or if it is simply like the glow of a firefly caught in a mason jar slowly fading into the night. I constantly worry about the opportunities missed because they presented themselves to a blind eye, but not as much as the opportunities passed up because of selfishness or confusion.
I fantasize about being brave. Riding in on the white horse of humility and slaying the dragon of pride, I will burst through the gate of uncertainty and kiss my prince passionately, offering my heart and undying love at his feet. But this is just another daydream. Instead I will sit in the melody of Joshua in my paper crown pretending that I am the one who needs to be rescued.