When we are unhappy with reality, we dream. I was unhappy
with my reality, so I dreamt. This is the story about an
ordinary teenage girl who went to the extreme to feel
included in society. Everyone has moments where they
envision themselves as someone whom they have always wanted
to be; I just took my vision a bit too far.
	The moment I became a teenager was the moment I became
extremely self-conscious. Before I had turned thirteen years
old, I was completely confident and comfortable with whom I
was as a person. I was not the shy person I am today. I was
never afraid to speak my mind. I suddenly became some
inverted, miserable being. I was confused with myself. 
Every day, I would wish that I were someone else. I often
found myself comparing who I was to others around me. This
seems normal, right? Most teens at that age compare
themselves to those around them. It all comes with the
process of finding oneself, doesn’t it? If this is what
you’re thinking, you’re opinion is bound to be changed
once I share with you this next bit of information. I began
imagining myself as Miley Cyrus, a pop icon whom I idolized
at the time. These thoughts were nothing compared to the
thoughts of Frederick Douglas as he imagined himself as a
renewed, freed man* or the thoughts of Daisy Buchanan in F.
Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby as she imagines how
her life would be different if she would openly express her
love for Jay Gatsby.** These thoughts I was having were not
normal. Similar to the thoughts Emily Dickinson had as she
imagined she was dead.*** I knew this, but I also knew that
these thoughts set me free from my unhappiness with myself.
When I was younger, the thoughts that went through my head
were: “I wish I had blonde hair”, “I wish I had a good
singing voice like Miley Cyrus”, “Why do all the boys
like her? I wish I could be like her”, etc. It is true
that the mind is a scary place. However, my mind was the
place where I was the happiest. I was the happiest when I
was enclosed within my own mind because, as said by Emily
Dickinson, “The Truth must dazzle gradually/ Or every man
be blind-.” In my head, I created a new self. One that was
of perfection and that had all the characteristics of the
person whom I longed to become. 
	The girl in my head was perfect. The girl in my head was
the most popular girl in the world. Everyone was jealous of
her. This girl was me. I was Miley. She was everything I
wanted to be. I remember going to one of Miley Cyrus’s
concert during the time of my obsession. After the concert,
I got in the car and began replicating the concert in my
head. Everything was the same except for the person who was
performing because I was imagining that I was Miley Cyrus
and that it had been my concert. At school the next day, I
listened to my peers rave about the concert, causing me to
want to imagine myself as Miley Cyrus even more. I guess it
felt pretty good to listen to my classmates praise
“me”.
If I could go back in time, I would tell my younger self
that perfection does not exist and that, if I kept imagining
myself as this perfect being, it would make me extremely
unhappy with myself in the future years to come. However,
this was not possible, so I remained ignorant to the
important things in life. 
	When I reached the start of my high school years, my crazy
imagination completely took over me. I was completely
dependent upon the girl in my head, while becoming unhappier
every day about who I was in reality. I thought I was
overweight, so I made Miley extremely skinny. I did not
believe I was pretty, so I made Miley a model. I recall
thinking that, if I imagined myself as Miley often enough,
maybe I could become her in reality. Crazy, right? The
things we will do to be happy. 
	As I began feeling happier with whom I was in reality, I
imagined myself as Miley less often. I have come to accept
that I will never be perfect. However, I still do not
understand what stemmed these thoughts in my head. Will I
finally understand it once I become fully comfortable with
where I stand in society? Could it be that there are many
people out there who share the same experience, but who are
too afraid to speak out about it just like I am?