Somedays, I kiss boys who make me feel like a number. I lose my name to the next girl as I morph into the last one. I tell secrets to people who’s hands were never open to hold them, and I pretend that this is exactly what I wanted, too. One day, I realized this is not at all what I wanted. Sometimes, I don’t shave my legs for weeks, because honestly, I just don’t care, just like you. Sometimes, I joke about celibacy, but seriously, I just really like being on my own, no strings attached. Sometimes, I miss being with someone, but most times, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Some nights, I have conversations with people who will forget about them when the sun rises, and I remind myself that no, this does not classify as friendship. Some nights, I stay awake and apologize to my best friend for the boy who did that shitty thing once-upon-a-time because we both know, he won’t.
Somedays, I spend in bed with friends listening to good music and talking about last night. I remind myself to never kiss a boy who makes you feel like you’re a number – even if it’s number one, because one implies to be followed by a second, and honestly, you were born with a name no number should replace. Sometimes, I plan to stop shaving my legs, or I guess I mean, to stop putting in effort where it’s not deserved. I decide sex is great and not something I need in my life right now, because all I want, is me. Some nights, I go to concert’s on my own even when it feels uncomfortable because, well, I’m not sure why, I guess why not?