It doesn’t take much to be carried away on the weak wings of imaginings, as these fleeting hopes take us to unimaginable heights.
It doesn’t take much- a look, a laugh, a lie- to lose ourselves utterly to the dancing little girl inside us, to her girlish fantasies and impossible dreams.
It doesn’t take much to rewrite ourselves and our futures so completely, to be rendered helpless by these fantastical ideas and hopes, so much so that we forget ourselves.
The dancing little girl, who dreams of horse-drawn carriages and moonlit nights, is the first to skip and giggle at the whisper of delight, at the rustle of dreams coming true.
The dancing little girl, who dreams of ball gowns and royalty, is the first to drown under the tsunami tides of disappointment, of the crushing realisation of rejection.
Modern and practical, we pretend we have outgrown glass slippers and tiaras, but inside, we are jumping and leaping, dancing and skating, our hearts soaring and floating. But it is when that little girl comes out, her tiny shoulders shaking, that we find ourselves unable to pretend any more, as the wings crack and break, and we fall back harshly on the ground.
On the ground, we stare in awe at the heights we had risen to, the silly thoughts we had entertained. On the ground, we promise not to be swayed by the dancing little girl again, to remain unattached and unaffected next time.
But the next time finds us liars, as we can be found throwing ourselves off the cliffs of practicality, hoping against hope that our dreams can keep us afloat. Because this is what makes us forget; this is what makes us girls.
Title inspired by the Lana Del Ray song of the same name.