Holly Golightly

Dear Blog,

I'm nearly done reading Breakfast at Tiffany's  and I mistakenly believe that I should be Holly Golightly. There's a magnetism that surrounds girls who don't need anyone. They tend to attract everyone. I've fallen under the spell of more than a few of these girls, charming and cool, beautiful to watch. They come and they go, and I always wished I had that charm, that vain self-importance that makes them so beloved and yet so despised by those they leave in their wake.

I've never been like that. I've been too sensitive to others' feelings, too eager for friendship and approval. A starry eyed sparrow wishing to be a swan. I think too hard, I've always been too mature and grounded, and I've never learned how to flirt properly. I hate to bother others. I'm an observer. In truth, I'm the nameless narrator in Breakfast at Tiffany's. I'm the take in the mannerisms of my flippant female amours. I soak. I swash them around in my head and puzzle over them with an indescribable yearning. I am bound to be the documenter, not the documented.

Well, so it is. I cause these poor socialites to be remembered. Without those who remember them, these women would be nothing, forgotten. Even if I am not a main character, I have my importance.