Unfinished Happiness
Today I was going to come out here and do what I always do. Talk through the play-by-play of my life because half the time I still think I’m fucking crazy, and I need something outside of myself to tell me I’m not. I need someone to take all the shit in my head, hold it still for a second, and tell me what the fuck I’m looking at. But I haven’t really needed to lately. I haven’t been writing either. Not really. And that is weird for me. Not since He came home. And I can’t put into words how much I love that. I love that I haven’t needed to pour myself out just to get through the day. I love that I’ve been so busy living instead of constantly trying to understand why living hurt me so fucking bad. He makes me so happy it’s fucking annoying sometimes. Not in some bullshit fairytale way where everything is suddenly easy and beautiful. That isn’t even close to what this really is. There have been some really rocky moments. Moments where I’ve thought we couldn’t poss...