I can feel my heart beating wildly and I’m feeling shaky and weak. In Northern Michigan, we have the Cherry Festival. On top of that, there is a Cherry Queen. Ever since I was dubbed alternate Princess for my school, I have looked up to that woman with a passion in my eyes. I wanted to be the woman with the crown, smiling, tears misting my eyes, waving gracefully, and clutching roses to my chest. I want to be Cherry Queen.

My parents know people. Lots of people, who have connections with Northern Michigan pageants. Miss Coho is supposed to be great. They look at personality supposedly, as well as talents. My parents know the organizer.

My parents want me to become Miss Coho, so I can build myself up to Cherry Queen. And I get nervous, excited, happy, all at the same time just thinking about it. It strikes a smile on my face, thinking of even being a candidate for any pageant.

It’s amazing to think that if I did this, I might be happy again. It’s amazing to think that I wouldn’t be wearing baggy pants, head bent over, staring at the ground and hiding the fact I had breasts. I would be smiling, wearing dresses and skirts, straight posture, and very aware of my breasts. I’ll do it. I’m eager. I’ll be a girl, if I can accomplish a dream.

And acting girlish is very much a part of pageants. Hell yes I can do it. I could have done SO much better in the 7th grade, when I was happy nearly all the time, but I can do it.

DAMMIT! I’m so determined. I want this so badly. I’ll do anything. ANYTHING.