She just sort of waltzes around the room, in a blank sort of way, not caring if she knocked the single lamp with a Winnie the Pooh shade on it over or if she waltzed right into the wall. It was an extraordinarily blank room. It had been reduced to the "bedroom", which is all it really contained.


All she wanted was some pizzazz for her own guilty pleasure. As of now, she is grabbing her little stuffed toy tiger by the neck and growling at the other lions as she climbs the immense bed, pronouncing this tiger the new king of the animal kingdom.


Only a moment ago she was dancing with old friends and the rest of the royal Romanov family in a large yellow round ball gown. She bounces around the ballroom with handsome gentlemen, hiding from the powerful and evil Rasputin.


Now that she's finished knighting her tiger she is cleaning a little hut made for only seven below average height men. The animals of the forest happily help her clear cob webs as they join in through the windows and doors. Her sweet melody charms the raccoons, brings a tear to a the doe's eye, and makes the blue birds wings flutter as they finish sweeping off the garbage on littered dishes.


It seems as though she's changed again, but now she's jumping off the bed with a black feather, from her pillow, in her hand and a stuffed rat in the other. She vigorously tries and tries to soar off the bed and land on the other side of the room after circling the ceiling a couple dozen times. She does nothing beyond landing flat and square on her face every single time.


This is a lovely girl.


She is the Lion King. She is Anastasia. She is Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. She is Dumbo.


She is a leader, she is royal, she is beautiful, she is kind, and she is a loser.


She is me.