I wanted to be her, you know? I wanted to have that wild dreadlocked hair, those recycled hemp skirts and beaded blouse. I wanted to wear those big black boots and be able to pull it all off so I looked like a forlorn fairy with a bent wing. I wanted to be her, to drift by with that hint of a smile lifting the edge of my lips, the vague scent of patchouli drifting out behind me and the look that says, "starving broke student, sexpot just rolled out of bed, saving humanity one recycled vegan grocery bag at a time". You know... her.
I have to admit though, that I never wanted to be with him. Yes, him. That non-deoderant wearing, infrequently showering, no underwear, slim hipped bearded backpack wearing guy that smells like mushrooms and old socks. Nah, I didn't EVER want him.
So I guess it's just as well that I turned out to be a turtleneck wearing, capri and croc wearing, going gray twisted up into a clip cuz I'm too lazy to style my hair kind of girl. I seem to fit YOU better when I'm the just a dash of chapstick but a spritz of department store perfume, leather purse with breathmints and advil inside kind of girl-woman.
It all turned out alright didn't it?
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