I used to hear about those girls.
The ones who would stumble out the door
Bottle in hand, dress too short and life too long.
I envied their freedom.
I wanted their life, their beautiful sins,
The bus ride home at three in the morning.
Drunk people helping drunker people.
Now I have that life, and I no longer envy it.
I appreciate how raw and real it can be.
I am one of those girls now. Do you envy me?
