Sticky Lemons

Oh I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
But it don't snow here
It stays pretty green
I'm going to make a lot of money
Then I'm going to quit this crazy scene
I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
I wish I had a river so long
I would teach my feet to fly
Oh I wish I had a river
I could skate away on


My name is Abigail. Abigail Ridgely. And I'm running away.
What's the point? I keep thinking things will be different
this time. That things will change. And they aren't. And they don't.
So why stay here? Why be here? So I'm leaving.
It won't matter when I'm gone. A few people here and there
may notice my absense but it won't mean anything to them.
One more person to disappear from their lives. Soon enough
my position will be filled and one day they'll think, "What
ever happened to that girl? The one with the blonde hair? Did
she get married? What was her name anyway?..." And all I will be is
a memory. And I'm okay with that. Because in a week I won't even
remember their faces.

Life is what you make it. I've always believed that.
My mother was beautiful. She made the most wonderful lemonade out of
the most sour of lemons. And it worked for us. I'm just chosing to make
lemonade of a different flavor because the flavor I've made here is getting stale.
I thought once upon a time that my life would be glamourous and dainty.
It isn't. And I'm okay with that. I suppose not everyone's lives are dainty
all the time. Maybe I'm just in the slippery, sticky, very messy part of
my life that will pave the way for the dainty. Or maybe my life won't ever
be dainty. That's okay too I guess. Someone's got to have a non-dainty life and
if no one else can handle it I suppose it's up to me to take it on. Running away
is not the correct term I suppose.

My name is Abigail. Abigail Ridgely. And I'm moving on from the sticky.