Revised 4/16/2012

My heart is pounding as I slip through the window of our two-story house. It's midnight, and I wonder if my styled capris and pink tank top are in need of a matching jacket for tonight's party. A chilly wind brushes my bare arms-too late.

I can't risk going in and letting my parents catch me.

Not again. See, last time I was caught sneaking out of my room and that resulted in therapy and counseling. Until then, I had always thought that they were the same thing. Well, for those who didn't know, they aren't. Therapy asks how you feel, and counseling teaches you how others feel.

I liked counseling better, because I could always talk about others better than myself.

Especially her.

See, She was my life. Everything about me was Her. It was always about Her. My clothes, room, heck, I would even wear a wig just so I could pretend for a moment that I was Her.

No, I'm not some crazy pervert.

I'm only guilty of emulation.

(Emulate: to imitate with effort to equal or surpass. That's what the counselor told me.)

Emulation of Trixie Tang. The most amazing, wonderfully perfect girl in the entire world.

I'm sure anyone with any reason would agree with me, even if my parents didn't. Apparently climbing out of a window dressed in Trixie's clothes and a wig to video tape her in her sleep is considered "highly abnormal behavior" by most of society. The day after catching me sneak out, they called the counselor. She suggested (actually, it was more of a command...) that I needed to break away from Trixie's influence.

So after the counselor meeting, Mom and Dad called the real estate agent.

The next thing I knew, my Trixie-pink room was replaced by a blank white room with a window overlooking a sign that said, "Amity Park: A nice place to live." Seriously? C'mon. Who wants to live in a "nice" place? Why couldn't we just live in another mansion? Heavens knows we have the money for it.

My parents thought it would be too much like Trixie's house. Cursing them and the nut they made me visit every morning from 9-10 (and weekends from 9-12), I slowly adjusted to my new life. To my relief, it wasn't that much different than Dimmsdale. There were cliques and cool places to hang, parties on the weekends and boys.

The best part was that I made it into the A-list. The "cool" people. The popular crowd.

And it wasn't hard. Day 1 of the new school, I reclaimed my spot as "best friend of the most popular girl" within minutes. Seriously, all one needs to do is flash around a little green and everyone instantly regards you in the highest respect. The cool part was that the therapy and counseling did work. I became my own person and didn't "emulate" my new popular friend, Paulina. I discovered that I like and dislike so many things it was exhilarating! I've decided to make my opinion known now. Even if no one cares, if I think someone's weird, they'll know it.

After a lot of thinking (and discussion with the counselor) I decided to change my name. After all, I was now a new girl. I had a second chance to be me, and no one else.

I don't have to dream anymore of popularity, I have it.

I don't have to pretend to be someone I'm not, I am someone.

My past has developed this beautiful girl who shines like a star in a dark galaxy.

It has helped me realize that I am a Star. And tonight, I'm guiding myself on my own journey. Even if it begins through a window, it ironically signifies the end of an old search for perfection and the beginning of a new life.