I'm the quiet one
& also the outspoken one.
I'm the "gets in arguments at bars with sexist men" one.
I'm paint splatters on a white wall.
I'm spilt glitter in the carpet.
I'm hopeful in the sense that everything has to work out,
but i'm not going to actually do anything about it.
I'm a lover. Maybe too much, even.
But you probably wouldn't see it in me.
I'm stand off-ish.
I think every car on the highway is going to hit me.
I spend hours watching crime show re-runs.
I think i'm a "manic pixie dream girl"
even though I ******* hate that phrase.
I'm a wino.
I'm paranoid.
I'm reckless.
I like to do drugs that take me out of my mind.
I'm the kind of person who keeps trinkets,
such as old love notes & my high school prom ticket.
I guess I'm a hoarder of sorts.
A hoarder of nostalgia.
I'm a dreamer.
I dream way too much.
I'm the one who holds on to the good memories
& pretends like they're still there, when they're not.
I'm clueless but i'm learning
(I read that somewhere)
I'm the one who watches a movie & afterwards
pretends i'm the main character.
I'm like sour milk.
I'm a jealous person at times.
I'm a good soup maker.
I'm an even better pen pal.
I'm not good with money,
but I am good at wasting it.
I'm really good at wasting things.
I'm a great party hostess, ask anyone.
I'm a record lover, a music lover really.
I'm the one who has a "Suicide song"
and jokes about it.
I'm offensive & blunt.
I curse too much,
but I think people kind of like it.
I'm somewhat of a narcissist.
why else would I still be writing about myself?
I'm a good person.
A solid gold oldie.
I'm the girl of your dreams if you want me to be.
I'm stubborn like my father, who was in a Italian mob,
or so he says.
Which reminds me,
I have "daddy issues"
(I also ******* hate that phrase)
I'll never tell my secrets.
I'm an interrupter.
God that must be annoying.
I bite my nails. Ever since I was a kid.
I look up plane tickets & Airbnb's for fun.
I'm teaching myself French.
I usually sleep until 1pm.
I'm the oldest child, yet need my mom the most.
I'm a collector,
But nothing of value.
I'm magazine clippings & unfinished projects.
I'm bad at remembering to take my medicine.
I'm impulsive.
I'm always on the run.
A girl with a plan.
Girl, uninterrupted.
I'm just me.
Whoever that really is.

When the weather changes
and it's finally September
I feel in love.
When the breeze is cool
everything is better
I feel in love.
When I can wear a beret or
don a favorite coat
I feel in love.
& when I sit down and read
something that you wrote
I feel in love.

I just saw an ad online
that said "House spiders the size of your hand
are invading UK homes
& looking for love"
and I couldn't help but
somewhat relate

tell me i'm pretty
tell me i'm dumb
tell me that i'm your only one
i sit at home and wait for you
i sit at home
now what do i do?

this beat on my brain
is what i'm used to
this noise in my nerve
it's sticky like glue
i think i know a thing, or two
i think i want to die with you

some days I think about paint colors & home decor
other days I think about traveling
& getting away
I can't seem to make my mind up
do I want "hushed violet"
or do I want
to escape

i'm happy just to lay in bed
because my glow-in-the-dark stars
above my head
make me happy
but I wish I was dead
would you be happy,
if it were you instead?
i'm happy just to lay in bed
because the thoughts & the voices
that consume my head
they make me happy
& I like to pretend
i'm not lonely
but I am in the end