I Want To Be Me

I am trapped inside a body that denies my very existence. It has a chronological age. Not me. I have an inside age. I am between three and ten years old. I like to color, to swim, to run. I like to climb trees and watch bugs crawl on the sidewalk or in the grass. I think nature is super great. I love to walk our dog, run with her, and feel her feet jump on my tummy and her tongue lick my whole face when we roll in the grass together. Her eyes look right into mine and she sees me and I see her, no matter what our bodies look like. We talk to each other with our eyes and when I pet her, her eyes tell me she loves me. Just like when she lies against me, not moving, either of us. I belong to her and she is part of me. Our spirits are together. She loves others and so do I, but nothing can take her place with me and I think she feels the same way. She doesn't care that my body is old or skinny. She doesn't care if I have sores or bruises. She sees my heart. I see her heart. They tell me she won't live as long as the body I live in does. But I don't believe that. She's in my heart. She will never die. I need her. She needs me. We take care of each other. Nothing can keep us apart in our hearts. She is special to me, in a good way. And I am special to her. When I see her stop to sniff something or run to see something only she can see, I watch and wait to see what she has found and will show me. People don't do that. But people out there don't see my eyes, don't see my heart like she does. We move a lot, but she is okay with it and I can be okay with it as long as we are together. With her, I can be me. I have to play games and be quiet with outside people, but not with her. She barks when I laugh or yell. She whines when I cry. But with her, I am me. With me, she is herself. We know each other. We feel each other. With her, I can be me.