Girls Like Me

By Shreyaa Deori

She comes out of a hot shower after roughly 2 hours, smelling overwhelmingly of peach. Amidst all the peachiness I can smell the cigarettes in her breath.

"I am a fan of relaxing showers" she says when I raise my eyebrows at the sight of cigarette butts in the sink.

Her old roommate told me that there used to be a time when she used to enjoy a cigarette a week but after breaking free from a toxic relationship that drained her mentally, she needed atleast 3 cigarettes to get through the day.

"I am sorry" she says, "You are stuck with me for a roommate. It is just a thing that's common with girls like me with unresolved parent issues who are familiar with self hate and have never known the existence of self love. When we leave something toxic, we tend to find another and cling to it with all of our souls. For girls like me, who have been told throughout their lives that they don't deserve happiness, we harm ourselves so that if by some luck, we do come across happiness, we feel like we've earned it fair and square. It is probably to define girls like me that they came up with the term- masochist."

She pauses and looks at me hoping for me to say something. I don't. I sip my hazelnut cappuccino in silence and nod my head.

She stands up and whispers in my ear "Thank you for listening without lecturing. I really needed that" and leaves.

She doesn't know how brave she is for being able to admit the truth and express, however hard it may be because there are girls, who like her, also hug everything toxic but are complete cowards who are unable to express. They don't accept the truth, entertaining the thought that the truth remains a lie if it is not admitted to.

They are girls like me.

By Shreyaa Deori