Kind of Girl

I am the kind of girl often struck dumb with optimism, and in the moments where I am not waiting, wishing and hoping, I am writing to convince myself that the love I want is the love I deserve.
I use words like lifeboats, white knuckling “tomorrow” “maybe” “one day”.
And yet a part of me relishes in the beautiful way things fall apart. I think there is a certain kind of grace in inevitable destruction. You never have to be careful.
I’m the kind of girl who doesn’t believe in church but I pray twice a day because I don’t know if I’ll be saved but I like to think there’s someone listening to my internal monologue.
Maybe that’s vanity, maybe that’s faith.
I’m the kind of girl who writes poems for strangers, they live in a book of a never-said-aloud things and other odes to the universe. Let’s just say I make a lot of accidental eye contact on public transportation.
I’m the kind of girl who thinks best in a train station, at 5 am, anytime where I am lonely but not alone.
But the real kicker is,
I still don’t know what kind of girl I am.

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