"Poor people need it, too."

Today, I was blue. Through and through. I even wore a blue sweater. I didn't know any better.

I'm looking forward to taking a great deep breath, preceding a big sigh of relief. In the absence of it, I am left to shallow exhalations that never quite get the job done. It feels good to fill your lungs. It feels good to be filled with something. Even if it's just air.

I always wanted to be the girl that was not like anyone else you had ever known. I don't know what causes someone to want that. I didn't grow up in an orphanage or anything. But I always wanted to be the image with the extra glowing halo in everyone's memory. The sore thumb. That Mary. She was something. There was never anyone else like her. She was different. Special. She was the pearl of great price. The last mint in the can. The unbruised banana. She was someone you would write songs about. You would recall her in slow motion. With sparkles. She would make your heart race. Or melt. She was a charmer, that one. She had small hands. They were good for holding.

And then it starts to sound like I'm writing my eulogy. No wonder I'm blue.