the wanna-be-One-Tree-Hill-me

I want to be just like Hailey James Scott. I want to be a teacher, just so I could share what I believe matters; so I could inspire students that someday they will be someone, and that someday is now. I want to be a musician. I want to know the feeling when people route for your songs, when they want to be entertained by you alone. I want to be principled and dear. I want to be married to the man who’ll love me for what I am. I want to have a son who will want to understand my every woe. I want to be as patient and as strong as she is, when all she wanted was a good future for a family she is willing to fight for.

I want to be just like Brooke Davis. I want to have my own clothing line. I want to be confident. I want to help people as she did. I want to adopt a child just because he/she needs me to live. I want to be as objective and positive as she is about her mother, about trust, about friends. I want to have her as my friend, because I know that she can stand by and for me when needed, and vice versa. And all she wanted was to be loved, and trusted. Then, when all the success in the world couldn’t make her happy, she still recovers.

I want to be just like Lucas Scott. I want to publish novels. I want it to be personal, as personal as he did, as noble and as romantic as he did. When all that matters is nothing but love, of how great it is and how unlucky and unredeeming it feels to lose it. When all you want is to profess the love in the heart that wants to love no more; as though it fades in not seeing, in not believing. When everything that you ever want to do is that which scares the hell out of you. When you hide it in exchange for a make-believe. And suddenly, when make-believes become a serious disaster, you end up getting hurt, just like you feared. Then, you caught yourself wanting the same thing you wanted at the first place.

I want to be just like Peyton Sawyer. I want to star a novel. I want to be told about. I want to open my own record label, though I wouldn’t know what to name it. I love to have a car that’s a Comet. I want to have a best friend who will be more than willing to give up a huge business arrangement just for the simple reason that she wants to be my friend. I want to have a place to crash when the whole world feels so unreal and unwelcoming. I want to love as she did Lucas, as she still does. When all she can think of every morning is to get the one man that made her feel more real than anyone else in the world. When all she wanted to do is to win back the love that she lost, and still is losing.