I’m that girl.
The one by staring out a moving bus, wistful, while the morning gazes by. The one who eats fast, then slow and then just sits quiet for a while. The one who walks weird. The one who talks too much or too little and observes everything and everybody. The one who frowns more often than smiles, but when she smiles, it is only with joy. The one who is sarcastic as fuck, but is also being honest.
The one who does crazy sentimental shit for people, because, well, it matters. The one who takes rides to different corners of the city, and comes back home with a secret smile. The one who never truly learnt how to share her feelings, and still stumbles around. The one who still reads about happily ever afters.
The one who discusses existentialism and revels in intellectual debates. The one who enjoys beer more than wine, vodka more than whiskey and everything with a blunt joint.
The one who can turn everything into a dirty joke and calls her right hand her best man. The one who refrains from following rules just to scandalize. The one who’ll walk around without underwear and a coffee mug in hand. Who owns 30 pairs of shoes but wears the 1 all the time!
The one who cries to sleep at night sometimes, and wakes up yearning for more. Who goes down memory lane to remind herself how far she has traveled. Who listens to sad songs and writes lyrics of her choice. Who can’t strum a guitar and can make music in her head. The one who’s not pretty, or cute, or beautiful, but has someone amazing inside.
The one who places all her hope in her fears, and all her fears in her dreams. The one who will die for duty and family. The one who will live only for herself.
I’m that girl.
And I love that girl.