Here’s to the girls like us. The girls like me. The girls who stay up all night reading. Who are waiting for their perfect adventure, for a mysterious past to unfold. Praise for the girls who know there’s more than the concrete we walk on and the smiles we fake.
Raise your glass to the girls who stand in front of the mirror, hating the stranger who is staring back. To the girls who talk to their notebooks more than people. To the girls who sing in the shower, hoping that maybe someday they will take the stage. Love for the girls who would die before they stopped dreaming.
Pray for the girls who try their hardest to be perfect. Who pick up the pieces every single day, determined to make something goof. To the girls who know more about makeup than themselves, to the girls who don’t understand why boys won’t talk to them.
This is for the girls who dance in their underwear until midnight. For the girls who can’t wash the paint our of their hair or off their hands. For the girls who count the stars and the girls who breathe every moment. For the girls who are willing to accept the extraordinary, though everyone warns against it.
We are the girls people will write novels about. We are the girls who keep people up at night. We are the girls who find the ugly in the pretty and see the hope in the chaos. We are the girls that the other girls are too afraid to be.
So here’s to us.