Holding out for a Hero

Isn’t there a white knight, upon a fiery steed?

Late at night, I toss and turn and dream of what I need…

I need a hero.

I wish someone would save me. I wish someone would swoop in on a black stallion (never been a big fan of the white horse) and sweep me off my feet.

It’s that old saying that dates back to one particular episode from Sex and the City. “Women just want to be rescued.”

And as anti-feminist as that might sound, I do have that in mind. Fuck it all, I just want to be saved. Where is that knight in shining (slightly dented) armour? Do I not deserve to be rescued by someone?

This might sound very emo, but it’s just how I’m feeling.

This overwhelming desire to be free was kindled by being kissed, by being appreciated and by being listened to be my peers for the first time in almost twenty-one years.

Fuck, I feel like bursting out in a chorus of “I Sing the Body Electric” for some reason. But I can’t seem to be able to celebrate the “me yet to come”. I don’t know who that is.

Sorry for this festering piece of shit, but that’s just how I feel. I want to be saved.

Set me free.

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1 Comment

  1. I’m not a fan of the shiny man on a white horse either, but that’s no excuse for the shrek like creatures on donkeys that have recently come my way… Sometimes no steed is better.


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