Little Girls on Beaches

Have you ever watched the way little girls play on the beach? They frolic with innocence, kicking the waves and giggling, struggling only to drag their boogie boards into the ocean.

They take silly pictures, sticking out their tongues and giving each other bunny ears,

and laugh so loudly, they wake the old men sleeping behind them in beach chairs.

After a long day in the sunshine, they gobble up big bowls of spaghetti, never pinching their stomachs in shame.

They spend the night curled up on the couch, talking about the boys they think are cute and watching movies about princes and princesses. They watch and smile and dream about what it’s liked to be loved.

But then, those little girls grow up.

We grow up.

And none of that stuff ever happens the way we used to think it would.

We keep thinking it will, someday soon; maybe next year or the year after that. But time keeps passing and still, that stuff never happens.

We stay hopeful, but all the while we sit here jaded. And confused.

And the disappointment sort of tattoos itself inside of our hearts until it feels like it belongs there.

There’s people everywhere, yet we’re so lonely.

Now we lay here on the beach,watching those little girls, wishing we were still them,

thinking that maybe we should skip dinner and just have wine instead.

We’re still little girls, though, inside these grown up bodies,

catapulted into a society that tells us we were wrong all those years.

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