Her Charmed Life

 Do y’all know what a Lover Girl is? Can you tell that’s me to the letter? Ugh. For those of you who don’t know, a LG is basically a hopeless romantic type. It’s someone who loves love, being in love, watching other people in love, it’s like a drug to us. It’s strange for me when I think about it abstractly, like why is that how I am? Shouldn’t I be callus or something? JR said something like my heart is cold and callus when we broke up. (Yeah. He really said that, straight to my face. Fuck me.) It’s hard, being in love with love.

Lover Girl. Loooover Girrrrl. Doesn’t that sound weird? The words literally make a silly sound when you say them. They kind of get all twisted up on my tongue as my mouth tries to spit them out. That’s a fucking sign or something isn’t it?

I’m such a soft girl, I love pink and red, I forgive easily and I favor the morning sunrise over the sunset, I hate drama but I’m such a gossip. I literally toss and turn at night worrying over how someone views or thinks of me, I love getting flowers and jewelry as gifts and I try to always invite every person I know when I’m going somewhere (I’d die if they felt left out). I’m a “just take me with you” girl. I don’t care where we go, let’s just be together. All of this just seems so… silly. I’m sitting at my computer desk on a Friday morning, just recovering from being sick. I’m eating chocolate chip cookies for breakfast and sipping elderberry tea. All I can think about is I want someone. I want someone to sit with me, to touch me, read with me, exist with me. Innocently, you know? We can hold hands or you can play with my hair while I write. I’ll brew your tea, with honey right? (I’m a Lover Girl I already know how you like your tea, I just want to hear your voice) and peel your fruit for you. I want to give and give and give to you until I’m empty, because that’s what makes me happy. Honestly. Serving and loving and connection is all I need to feel fulfilled. But I want someone to return that, after I empty myself out for you, refill me. I just want someone who will give back to me just as much as I give to them. But the Lover Girl curse is strong with me I guess. Loneliness is a bitch to shake.

I should probably make another therapy appointment. I know what my therapist would say already though. Something about attention (yeah girl, I already know) tied in with something about loving myself (ew, better to make a joke about it than do it). I mean I’m drinking the fucking tea, I’m doing the fucking meditations and breath work, I have my favorite strawberry ice vape (it’s pink and cute). “What else do I need to fucking do?” I’d rant at her, frustrated. “The work,” she’d gently reply. Ugh. I’d rather drink acid I think.