Not An LA Kind Of Girl
My sheets smell like Marc Jacobs Daisy and I have stained the pillowcases blue but leave the ‘Please Do Not Disturb’ on my door because getting them changed makes me feel guilty. I watch people through the mirror behind the bar and am thrilled when Ari gets recognized but want to be invisible. I don’t fit in here. I pick all of my nail polish off and roll my eyes whenever I hear someone say the word “followers.” Every time I see a girl fix her hair or suck in or take stock of everyone looking at her I want to say, “You are good and enough and stop. Just stop.” Maybe the heat has made it so everyone forgets that this is temporary and that the realization of temporary isn’t terrifying, it will set you free.*