I’m that girl.
I’m that girl whose awkward vlogs from a couple years ago turn up on her facebook page now and then, because she hasn’t deleted them yet.
I’m that girl who wears sunglasses every single day, even if it is raining.
I’m that girl who is excited to show you her color coded finals study schedule.
I’m that girl who printed out and displays almost a hundred photographs on her dorm room’s cinderblock walls.
I’m that girl who gets a bowl of Lucky Charms and only eats the marshmallows.
I’m that girl who drops her plate in the dining hall and accidentally says racist things in italian class.
I’m a little all over the place. But in my sophomore year of college, I feel like I have a few things figured out. Things that Seventeen magazine doesn’t tell you (although I still don’t know which brand of lip gloss will drive my crush wild). Things that your mom might have tried to tell you once, but her argument relied so much on the virgin whore dichotomy that you tuned her out. Things that are at once good to know, and in the end not important, because everyone turns out fine.
It’s a pity to keep all of these things to myself. I’m that girl who will talk nonstop when she has something to say.
Aren’t we all?