Priya Jain

You don’t have to be happy 24/7.

You’ve ghosted, promised to call, but then lost your phone and gone MIA for weeks.

My number doesn’t give you any insight into me. It’s just that, a number.

Society has built it up to be this whole ordeal, convincing girls our first time is going to be magically irreplaceable.

It’ll be hard, but it’ll be worth it.

He gives me attention. And in a city where I don’t know anyone, that means more to me than you could understand.

We allow them to do it, to treat us like shit.

As human beings we’re wired to want what we can’t have.

We’re wired differently. Craving adventure more than the rest. Don’t let the world tell you, you are wrong. Catch the damn flight.

I’d never admit it, but I sometimes still stalk your Facebook.

Quite frankly, I actually love men. I’ve even been called boy crazy.

I debated kissing you. Telling you I still needed you.

We reminisce over the good times, never the bad.

A version that ends with you getting down on one knee.
And us moving into the suburbs.
A white picket fence life.

We’re so focused on the journey, never the destination. We blow our paychecks on shots and Instagram worthy restaurants.

He’s always there in the morning. After every fight. After every stumbling moment.

You’ll see it as she frantically re-reads a work email sent, double checking. Triple checking.

Here’s to the girls feeling so damn alone wondering when it’s their turn.