I’m not the kind of girl you fall in love with. I’m not the kind of girl you bring home to mom and dad. I’m not the kind of girl you plan a future with.
That’s just not me.
I’m the girl you whistle at from across the street. I’m the girl at the bar for whom you offer to buy a shot. Not glass of wine, not a beer, not a cocktail, but a shot. I’m the girl with the last name you never bothered to learn.
I’m the girl you describe as fun, amusing, entertaining. I’m the girl you like to be around, but only for a short amount of time. Because you also say I’m exhausting, I’m excessive, I’m always “just a bit too much”.
I’m the girl you keep at arm’s length.
I’m the girl you text after last call. I’m the girl you forget exists until you’re drunk and alone and need someone. I’m the girl you’re unashamed to dial at 2 a.m. I’m the girl whose phone number is saved in your contacts as something other than my name.
I’m the girl you’ve never taken seriously.
More than anything though, I’m the girl who never asked to be this kind of girl. Because I’m the girl with a good heart. I’m the girl who falls too quickly. I’m the girl who’s used to being hurt, to being let down. I’m girl who struggles not to give up hope. I’m the girl who spends her nights wondering why I’m like this. What makes me so different from the girls that garner love so effortlessly? Who decided I was this kind of girl? I’m the girl who can’t help but think: Why me?