my fantasy world

I am 5 foot nine and my name is Roxanne. I have long hair and it looks great wet. I brush it and guys want to ask me out. They ignore my companion who looks like a kindergartner. If she just told herself she was as perfect as I am, she would be, but she just wants to whine and not do anything about her circumstances. She has the nerve to eat when she is probably 100 pounds overweight.

My God screwed up making her and now Darwin is taking over. It is no accident that she was made of such faulty material that God didn't want to pass it on. Also she has a brain tumor. Again, faulty material. Sure, her parents think she's perfect, but now, it's her peers she's has to live with.

She is good, but not great, and it can be painful to be merely good in the midst of greatness, and with a brain tumor, one can only cling to the fantasy of greatness. Fantasizing can be better than realizing.