My name is Madison May. I am currently nineteen years old, but I don't like saying that because nineteen is too close to twenty and I am terrified of being anything other than a teenager. I am positive that the world won't take well to me being anything more than that because I daydream too much and sleep in and read books and wish for the summer and I've never outgrown my high school fantasies even though I'm in my second year of college. When I was six I wanted to be a veteranarian when I grew up, when I was nine an actress, when I was thirteen a pixie, and now a witch. This is all you ever really need to know about me.
I grew up in paradise and didn't know it until I left. I lived in a dreamy steamy humid hot house in South Florida where every day was summer and nothing else in the world mattered. I grew up in a tiny red bungalow with bougainvillea in the back yard and wild parrots in the front, with slinky stray cats that would curl up in the fruits and veggies I grew and let me pet them if I waited long enough, with a swimming pool that alternated between shades of aqua and green and crystal blue depending on the seasons and your mood.
I went to high school at a place where each period was spent painting on the lawn or writing poetry about ghosts or making movies about star crossed lovers in Abercrombie and Fitch jeans and I hated every second of it. Nobody understood why I wanted to learn about the stars or spend Saturdays roller skating and listening to music on the lawn instead of taking math tests and being caged inside of a building for eight hours a day. My teachers told me I could be great, I could be brilliant, but I could never apply myself and therefore would never make it in the "real world". I told them that the real world was not for me so that was just fine by me anyway. After Freshman year I decided I would stop going, and so I did.
I graduated. I got into my first choice school. I am at my first choice school now. I am slowly convincing people to chalk this up to witching or black magic and that is that.
I wrote a lot in high school, back when I would spend school days sipping chai lattes in coffee shops and tearing through the classics section of the library. I wrote a lot back when I was irrefutably happy. I am still happy, but in a melancholy kind of way that comes in waves that ebb and flow. Some days are better than others, and since this is my diary and my chance to write again one day I will write about that too, but not today.
Today is a day about sugary sweet beginnings. About hellos and bonjours and once upon a times.
So once upon a time there was a girl who lived on the moon...
