When you're young, you might think you're in love when in fact-- your stupid. A lot of movies with depict some unforeseen amazing connection between the Normal Good Looking Guy and the Normal Good Looking Girl when in reality-- your ugly. Your ugly as shit. Inside and out. When it comes to relationships, it's suppose to be ugly. Don't let Hollywood confuse you. There is no scenario where the handsome stud of high school takes one look at you and says to himself, "Holy shit she's the most special person in the universe. I'm going to devote all my time, energy, and sense to her because I TOTALLY don't have a life." That's fucking bullshit. That's not reality.
When I first figured this out-- I realized that I was a girl on different journey towards love. I knew that deep down that no fucking six-pack abs, big armed, street jeans, supermodel boy would ever have the sense to realize what kind of woman that I would be-- so I went down a different way. On my journey-- I grew accustomed to looking at... much older men. Not the mid life crisis men. (Not that they were ruled out) But I began looking for mature men, the kind of men who wouldn't use me for sex. (Which is hard to find.) and noooo I wasn't looking for a sugar daddy.
I was looking for... something... challenging. Because I'm the kind of girl who believes firmly in forbidden love.
Off limits love.
And I wasn't the kind of girl who was crazed about sex, drugs, money, or social status. A lot of people think "Oh she has daddy problems." When that's not the case. For me, it was never that case.
For me.... it was the hunger.
The hunger for change.
The hunger to make a difference in my life.
The hunger to taste that forbidden apple.
The hunger to do something that's considered unorthodox or completely crazy.
Matter of fact, I've been starving for years. I wanted something to look forward to every day. It's that kind of strange love that I admired and almost searched for, but when the stakes are too high-- you have to back down and wait for another day. Which was hard. Because I'm not a very patient girl. Nor am I forgiving. Or subject to a prisoner to her own needs.
And when I finally got my wish-- I was happy.
I was so happy when I met someone on August 16th at 12:02 am in the morning. The midnight bell for lovers, true lovers, searching for something new.
Or for something to kill the lonely days.
Or something to live for the rest of their days. Until death do we part? A ring on my left hand? A bun in the oven? Who knows.
No one can predict the future.
But when I was with him-- a string formed and attached me to him, and he to I, tying tightly somewhere beneath my left ribs and if that string were to snap--
I would be in terrible anguish.
That's how much he means to me.
I know it.
Before, he and I had spoken about marriage and having a family and I wasn't too keen in bearing his children or being a mother so young in life when there's the world to see.
But these past couple of months, after so many texts, after so many laughs, so many tears, confessions, happiness, sadness, wishful thinking, dreaming, planning and everything in between that can be shared between a man and woman with loving hearts and a hope for the future-- I wouldn't mind being his wife after all. My mind began to slowly progress and download information that I've learned from me entire life and I realized-- YOLO
If you love him, do it
If you want kids, buckle down
If you want to grow old together, say I do