FicWad

Take me away in your TARDIS,
because I never got my acceptance letter to adventure.
My eleventh birthday was dissapointing,
but my thirteenth was worse.
No orange-shirted demigods came to take me away,
to help me realize the power within.
When I was nine, I couldn't find the door in my wardrobe,
I hardly fit in the damn thing,
how could another world?
I want to be a Starship Ranger,
so I can soar and be abducted by colorful bugs.
In my dreams I'm awarded a PHD in Horribleness,
then I can be qualified to be in the Evil Leauge of Evil.
Although I've never wanted to be taken away by sparkling men,
since I was eleven I've vanted to suck yur blood.
I don't fit in any faction,
and I wish I did so that I can deny my blood.
If only we had giant operahouses with mysterious men,
covered faces to cover genius.
There are no Mariuses left in the world,
but pleanty of wanna-be Cosettes searching for them.
The student film I made never attracted a pale, suited audience,
so Alex never had to step in,
therefore Jay and Tim could care less.
The world hasn't been overtaken by zombies yet,
and I haven't yet a policeman named Rick.
I'm not named Anne and I don't have redhair.
I can only dream of being from Two Rivers and walking among
Rand Al'thor, the dragon.


I'm not fantastic or brilliant.
Not magical or enchanted.
I'm not an alien or a jawa.
I'm just a girl in the 21st century.
Filling my head with these crazy wishes.
But you see these things are my Santa Clause;
Something I can't see but want to be real so badly
that I end up believing in them.
Living as if I was tethered to a raft of these worlds,
clinging desperated so as to not be swept away.

In hindsight, aren't we all struggling to stay afloat
on our little rafts,
made of religion or philosphy,
hope or violence,
disregard for the future or plans,
and yes, fandoms.
No.
My hours of Doctor Who and Wheel of Time are not a waste.
Because if we don't construct these rafts for ourselves,
what will keep us afloat?