I don’t know where the idea that girls are made of “sugar and spice and everything nice” came from. I am not made of sugar and spice and everything that is nice, I am made of the stars I stay up late to count, the infinite promise of the universe and endless possibility of the galaxy.
I am made of the words on every page of every book my mind has ever devoured.The pain from the first boy to ever break my heart, the people I’ve loved, the ones who’ve left, the ones I’ve lost.Every sip of coffee, water, vodka, anything and everything to have touched my lips, every plane ride that got me away, gone, out, every one to bring me back, home, here, cement of every sidewalk I’ve walked down, dirt soaked through those brand new white shoes, roads we drove through, winters ending too fast, live in the moment, be here in the moment, its only a moment, songs on repeat, on the radio, stuck in my head, blasting through my headphones, overused book quotes, its not a metaphor its just an unlit cigarette, we are not infinite. 2 AM phone calls, 3 AM silence, money made then spent on things I want but don’t need, I need to have it, got to have it.
Crying in the high school bathroom, laughing in the 9th grade science room, kissing in the music room, crying again in the downstairs hallways, stop crying, grow up and stop crying, I should have known to stop crying, failed spanish test, don’t email my mom, I’ll do better next time, another failed spanish test. saturday night, home, alone, friday night, “I'm out”, “I'm nowhere”, "I don't know, I'll be home soon."
Magazines I read and people I see, "you've gotta look like her, so don't eat. if you want to be pretty and you want to be loved, either don't swallow your food or throw it all up."
81,694 photos, 5,443 songs, 952 followers, 100 and however many pound, what are these numbers, why do I care about these numbers, let me tell you more numbers.
65 students, 10 that I like, make that 9, make that 8. 24 hours in the day, 7 in classes, 5 at my desk, 4 in my head, 2 in the car, leaves me 6 to get to bed. Lost in physics at 3PM, trying to “find myself” at 3AM, so many 3AM’s, why am I always awake at 3AM.
Every grain of sand under my feet, every star over my head, every spec of dust to touch my fingertips, every heart break, every song, every person, every wish, every trip, every story, every chance, every “what if”, every “why not”, every infinity and endless possibility, I am not just sugar and spice, I am every part of the god damn galaxy.