Princess, of, well, Princessery

I am a princess. Or so I think. I am trying to remember what inspired that particular alter ego, since it came about in adolescence instead of the more, um, normal, toddlerhood. I don't know whether it was Disney cartoons or Buttercup in the Princess Bride, but I think it may simply have been my own sordid imagination coming up with a scheme by which I could change the world for the better and get anything I personally wanted. I think I would use my powers for good, reducing poverty and disease worldwide, building the world a home and keeping it company, walking down the road with a man, letting there be peace on earth and all that. But I think I would also have a ridiculous amount of sex. There are moments each day when I enjoy playing the games of human society, the particular play and counterplay of interacting daily with the people around me who haven't quite decided how they feel about me. But for every instant of that, there is a moment when I just want to look each person I talk to in the eye and tell them exactly what I want from them and have them reciprocate. If those things differ, we work it out; if they differ irreconcilably, no hard feelings, we'll move on to someone else, thanks for playing, here's a cookie as your consolation prize. And if they're the same, we can be the best of friends or the deepest of lovers, or we can walk away having learned something from one another, according to our wishes. Perhaps I can instate a time limit; after ten cumulative hours of interaction, you must declare your feelings to the other person, even if they're ambivalent, and prepare for the consequent interactions. Perhaps one day I'll be princess, and I'll fly to the moon with Kermit the frog and watch rainbows on earth over the lovers and dreamers, singing songs of freedom to a world of peace and eat organic strawberries and cream, wrapped in moonlight and the arms of someone pleasing. Who will know exactly what I feel about him, and want exactly the same. Perhaps.