When I was eleven-years-old…



When I was 11

I used to dream not believe but dream that my Doctor and my Ponds will come for me and save me from this hell that is reality. We would travel all over the universe each time finding a new piece of myself and each time losing the old me.
I would WOW! at everything and they would laugh.
Me and the Doctor would laugh at the cheesiness of Amy and Rory’s love.
And most of all… we used to cry.
Cry about how much we cared about each other. Cry about how much we don’t exist and that fact was beautiful.

My Raggedy Man never came. So I’ll sit and wait in my garden and continue waiting… Waiting… And waiting still.

I miss it.

The wild crazy dreams.

~ living in the atmosphere; learning who I am


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