i love more things than boys.
-i like waking up on a Saturday morning
and watching the sunlight dance around my room.
i like breathing in the crisp clean morning air
then snuggling back to sleep inside my warm blanket palace.
-i like walking down my stairs on said Saturday morning and smelling waffles
and hearing my dad laugh and sing zz top and then hotel California.
i like hearing him try hard to decide between the sound of silence and the beach boys while sizzling bacon on the stove.
i like hearing my mom shuffle zombie-like into the kitchen and make eyes at the full coffee ***, and then at my dad- who lovingly filled it for her.
listening to their banter as my sunlight-filled-angel-kissed little sister wakes up and lathers butter on every last pancake.
i like being a part of them, being the bacon eater and the quiet listener, the new train of thought in this bright loud space.
i like more than just boys.
i like my life
and i do not need male hands
and my lack of sleepy bedroom eyes to define my life.
im worth more than the constant want of something i've never had.
my dad, the myth-busters enthusiast and pancake flipper is the biggest testament to that fact.
because of them i can never forget that i'm happy.