i never wanted to be pink.  but i might be.
a little girly on the inside. insecure. in love with sunshine and roses and horses.
romantic. smiles are my favorite. give me a hug goodbye. i might never see you again.
that kind of girl.
that kind of sweet desperation. the kind of candy you want to suck on forever. if it didn’t give you rotten teeth.
the girl with the boyfriend that holds her bags. –i hold my own bags thank you.
i don’t go shopping with straight men.
you see, i’d make out with your boyfriend, if i thought it give him some form of freedom from his cage of you. making him hold your bags. you bitch.
and i’m the cure for the itch.
but i’m not. i’m sweet. but i’m never called that. because i don’t look sweet. i like black. i look good in black.
k?
this time of year is a little sad. i watch all my boyfriend potentials date other girls. they start long lasting meaningful- probably want to have your babies relationships. and i laugh.
i talk bad about them behind their back. because their lame and need love to survive.
it’s not real.
i’m half right.
that confidence you feel inside. the kind that you get because you know someone loves you. that might be real. i call it fake. but what do i know? the only compliments i receive from the opposite sex are fished.
i think i’m a little girly. a little bit. probably am. i love marilyn monroe. i quote her during deep conversations.
all of my blankets are purple. an autographed picture of ryan theriot is hanging up in my room. mainly because he’s hot. secondly, because i like baseball. but i’m no tomboy. i know this.
i can’t watch a movie without randomly shouting out how hot the main character is. i know that this is girly because i get yelled at by my friends.
none of my good friends are girly. they are all like me. different. deep, maybe?
i love christmas music. because it makes my soul dance. yes. i said dance.
i dance all the time. i sing too. britney spears. i love britney. i know all the words to all her songs.
but i look at girls with their flashy pink myspaces. they have those quotes, “i hate bitches and all their stupid drama.” it takes a bitch to know one. and then i am sad to be called a girl.
if a girl says “drama” in a sentence while talking to me, i walk away before she has a chance to finish.
but i am girly. so i tell people. but to play one in real life? everyday, be girly? my nails are too short. my shoes are too flat. i’m an imposter.
but girls get the boys.
me. whatever i am. i just get to be that pretty, cool chick that makes witty comments on occasion, that is fun to party with, but never does. she’d rather drink her coffee.
i tell myself i’m too smart.
but i’m girly. i am.
i’m not stupid. not shallow. not caught up in my stupider, shallower boyfriend.
i may say dumb things. i may want to be told i’m pretty. i may want love.
i’m girly.

if i was simpler i’d get the boy with the nice back.
but i’m not. so i’ll sit here getting mad at myself for being too good for him.
how’s that for girly?