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Ready for love
I’m the kind of girl who,
one day says she hates pizza,
but the next eats an entire one by myself.
I am not ready for love.
I’m the kind of girl who,
will do something ridiculous like
learn to play Bohemian Rhapsody on the hand bells
just to prove I could.
I am not ready for love.
I’m the kind of girl who,
forgets the birthdays of my friends,
but wants them to know mine.
I am not ready for love.
I’m the kind of girl who,
needs my space,
but never wants to be alone.
I am not ready for love.
I’m the kind of girl who,
will lie about liking something,
because I’m embarrassed by it.
I am not ready for love.
I’m the kind of girl who,
wants to learn a language,
but only know the curse words.
I am not ready for love.
I’m the kind of girl who’s been left.
No explanation.
So all I had to believe was simple:
I was not enough.
I’m not ready for love.
But what if I was?
What if I was the kind of girl who,
decided she could be patient.
I mean, if the pizza takes longer than thirty minutes to get to you it’s free, right?
What if I was the kind of girl who put others first?
What if I was the kind of girl who made myself happy, when no one else could?
What if I was the kind of girl who could compromise?
Because I mean, I’ll go with you to Game Stop if you take me to Yogurtland.
What if I was the kind of girl who met a boy.
What if I met this boy, who’s eyes taught me to be honest.
Who’s smile and laugh taught me I didn’t have to be scared.
Who’s deep conversations about everything and nothing taught me to trust.
Who’s kiss taught me to be just the right amount of selfish.
Who’s love taught me my whole life I was wrong about myself.
Who’s love taught me that I am enough.
What if that boy looked to the ground,
and picked up the pieces of my heart laying there on the floor,
the ones I forgot about,
the pieces I didn’t even know were missing,
and fixed me.
In every way I couldn’t fix myself.
Because I’ll admit,
I am the girl who is not at all ready for love.
But I guess love is ready for me.
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