It's okay to say you made a mistake.  I did too, and I'll do it again, and I would too.  If we could choose the way we feel wouldn't we choose to be happy?  If we wanted to be and it was that easy, who would choose another way to live?  There's something inside me that must make the most of every opportunity, chase every wild love, give you my all, try to make puzzle piece clasp however I deem fit.  And if I fail, then it's over, and we drink to moving on.  I'm growing, I'm learning, I'm changing.  Rearranging.  What's important, who to keep close and which arm to use to create distance?  Not working on that backwards kind of feeling, acting on an urge to let you know I'm missing you, later than I'd desire but probably just about the hour you'd imagine.  I can't say I didn't try my damnedest, and I'd be lying if I said this hasn't happened a few times before.  But someday, things will click.  And we'll feel it.  Until then, here's to failing miserably, losing sleep over words you can't change, crying over what I wish I would have said... and when it's all said and done, kicking myself out of dumpsville and getting back to me.

Mashup city, bitch.  The Hood Internet cannot be fucked with.

I would like to do it all, and see a lot of it.

It's own little world.  I love this place.

I'm taking a moment to reflect on what I've done so far with this one wild and precious life I've been given.  What other lives I've been involved in, who I've let be involved in mine, the transcendent memories that still lay silent in the wings until I need them, lips I'll never kiss again, stories I'll never be able to retell quite like they were lived.  Houses I've called my home, friends I've called my own, cobblestones streets in old European cities I've walked down alone, all of these things make up the tiniest most insignificant thing in the universe - a single life.  Yet, without my one, or yours, or another single one, we would be a whole lot of nothing.  The phenomenon of retrospect is huge, wondering what I've done with the past twenty-three years and what I will do with however many remain.  There are so many unknowns, so many doubts and fears, yet I can only do so much apart from diving in headfirst and hoping I don't hit the bottom.  I feel really positive about the direction life is leading, and the decisions I'm making that will shape a hopeful future.  The current mundane will undoubtedly lead to something much more fulfilling.  The sequence of heartbreak will someday result in a life worth sharing.  The torrential downpour that sometimes floods our wills and souls will soon dry out and reveal uncharted waters.  I'm.  So.  Ready.

her voice just makes me so happy.

I feel like every year, without a doubt, right around February 13th, single girls around the country start getting reeeal bitter.  Bitter that their ex boyfriend is with a girl who ranks about three points higher than them on the sexy scale.  Bitter when they walk by the V-day display at Target and see a singing heart-shaped card that they secretly love but will adamantly protest that they hate.  Bitter that they're going to force themselves to spend the evening alone, on the couch, in a pair of ugly mismatched pajamas with a bottle of cabernet sauvignon and every single season of Friends on DVD.

Well, here's what I have to say to those bitches: stop being bitter!  Just because you aren't currently playing the dating game does not mean that you can't date yourself, and be awesome, and kick so much ass it's undeniable that you pretty much rock at everything in life, ever.  Being single has so many perks, it's ridiculous.  Let me just name a few off of the top of my head, go: not having to worry about farting in the middle of the night, not having to justify an expensive purchase to anybody, not having to share the last of the rocky road ice cream in the freezer after dinner, being able to and make out with strangers if the urge so strikes you on a Saturday night, not having to ask permission to go out with a specific person or group of people.  Not that dating somebody isn't great, I mean it is, and having regular sex is a bonus and getting nice things like presents and free dinners and all that jazz, but being single is nothing to turn your nose up at.  You have so many freedoms, the ability to work out life on your own terms, to not worry about which one of your friends your significant other doesn't want you to invite to dinner... sigh.  Also, you don't have to worry about being underwhelmed once Valentine's Day does roll around and your boyfriend didn't take you to the place you kept hinting that you wanted to go for dinner, or buy you that stupid necklace you emailed him a link to a few weeks ago, or wake you up with coffee and breakfast in bed (honestly that sounds awful, can I just sleep in?).  Instead, you get to be a kick ass individual that can celebrate another random day in February of being a phenomenal human being, with out without a man by your side.

I guess all I'm trying to say is, this Valentine's Day I really couldn't get less of a shit that I'm single.  And if you are so wrapped up and preoccupied with the fact that you are, well, then... I feel bad for you.  And then also, the last part of this image.

This is my life.

What if human babies did this?  You bathe them, and their hair gets that funny looking duck-butt look to it (you know exactly what I'm talking about) and then, even if they can't even walk or crawl yet, they waddle over to the closest towel bar and hang themselves upside down on it and drip dry.  I would probably die from happiness, and every clean baby would have a mohawk.

Cannot comment, too cute, might die.

Okay I am sorry but this video HAD to have been made strictly to make people lose their minds laughing hysterically by themselves at their computer screens.  Also, RIP fainting kittens... kind of depressing.

Literally one of the only reasons I would ever aspire to be a housewife one day: getting to wear stupid things like this.  Gah, I die.  I mean, I know wearing a gorgeous apron won't change the fact that I burn every single thing that I touch (including but not limited to Easy Mac, cake from a box, and frozen ready-to-bake pizzas), but a girl can dream, right?

It's okay to say you made a mistake.  I did too, and I'll do it again, and I would too.  If we could choose the way we feel wouldn't we choose to be happy?  If we wanted to be and it was that easy, who would choose another way to live?  There's something inside me that must make the most of every opportunity, chase every wild love, give you my all, try to make puzzle piece clasp however I deem fit.  And if I fail, then it's over, and we drink to moving on.  I'm growing, I'm learning, I'm changing.  Rearranging.  What's important, who to keep close and which arm to use to create distance?  Not working on that backwards kind of feeling, acting on an urge to let you know I'm missing you, later than I'd desire but probably just about the hour you'd imagine.  I can't say I didn't try my damnedest, and I'd be lying if I said this hasn't happened a few times before.  But someday, things will click.  And we'll feel it.  Until then, here's to failing miserably, losing sleep over words you can't change, crying over what I wish I would have said... and when it's all said and done, kicking myself out of dumpsville and getting back to me.

Mashup city, bitch.  The Hood Internet cannot be fucked with.

I would like to do it all, and see a lot of it.

It's own little world.  I love this place.

I'm taking a moment to reflect on what I've done so far with this one wild and precious life I've been given.  What other lives I've been involved in, who I've let be involved in mine, the transcendent memories that still lay silent in the wings until I need them, lips I'll never kiss again, stories I'll never be able to retell quite like they were lived.  Houses I've called my home, friends I've called my own, cobblestones streets in old European cities I've walked down alone, all of these things make up the tiniest most insignificant thing in the universe - a single life.  Yet, without my one, or yours, or another single one, we would be a whole lot of nothing.  The phenomenon of retrospect is huge, wondering what I've done with the past twenty-three years and what I will do with however many remain.  There are so many unknowns, so many doubts and fears, yet I can only do so much apart from diving in headfirst and hoping I don't hit the bottom.  I feel really positive about the direction life is leading, and the decisions I'm making that will shape a hopeful future.  The current mundane will undoubtedly lead to something much more fulfilling.  The sequence of heartbreak will someday result in a life worth sharing.  The torrential downpour that sometimes floods our wills and souls will soon dry out and reveal uncharted waters.  I'm.  So.  Ready.

her voice just makes me so happy.

I feel like every year, without a doubt, right around February 13th, single girls around the country start getting reeeal bitter.  Bitter that their ex boyfriend is with a girl who ranks about three points higher than them on the sexy scale.  Bitter when they walk by the V-day display at Target and see a singing heart-shaped card that they secretly love but will adamantly protest that they hate.  Bitter that they're going to force themselves to spend the evening alone, on the couch, in a pair of ugly mismatched pajamas with a bottle of cabernet sauvignon and every single season of Friends on DVD.

Well, here's what I have to say to those bitches: stop being bitter!  Just because you aren't currently playing the dating game does not mean that you can't date yourself, and be awesome, and kick so much ass it's undeniable that you pretty much rock at everything in life, ever.  Being single has so many perks, it's ridiculous.  Let me just name a few off of the top of my head, go: not having to worry about farting in the middle of the night, not having to justify an expensive purchase to anybody, not having to share the last of the rocky road ice cream in the freezer after dinner, being able to and make out with strangers if the urge so strikes you on a Saturday night, not having to ask permission to go out with a specific person or group of people.  Not that dating somebody isn't great, I mean it is, and having regular sex is a bonus and getting nice things like presents and free dinners and all that jazz, but being single is nothing to turn your nose up at.  You have so many freedoms, the ability to work out life on your own terms, to not worry about which one of your friends your significant other doesn't want you to invite to dinner... sigh.  Also, you don't have to worry about being underwhelmed once Valentine's Day does roll around and your boyfriend didn't take you to the place you kept hinting that you wanted to go for dinner, or buy you that stupid necklace you emailed him a link to a few weeks ago, or wake you up with coffee and breakfast in bed (honestly that sounds awful, can I just sleep in?).  Instead, you get to be a kick ass individual that can celebrate another random day in February of being a phenomenal human being, with out without a man by your side.

I guess all I'm trying to say is, this Valentine's Day I really couldn't get less of a shit that I'm single.  And if you are so wrapped up and preoccupied with the fact that you are, well, then... I feel bad for you.  And then also, the last part of this image.

This is my life.

What if human babies did this?  You bathe them, and their hair gets that funny looking duck-butt look to it (you know exactly what I'm talking about) and then, even if they can't even walk or crawl yet, they waddle over to the closest towel bar and hang themselves upside down on it and drip dry.  I would probably die from happiness, and every clean baby would have a mohawk.

Cannot comment, too cute, might die.

Okay I am sorry but this video HAD to have been made strictly to make people lose their minds laughing hysterically by themselves at their computer screens.  Also, RIP fainting kittens... kind of depressing.

Literally one of the only reasons I would ever aspire to be a housewife one day: getting to wear stupid things like this.  Gah, I die.  I mean, I know wearing a gorgeous apron won't change the fact that I burn every single thing that I touch (including but not limited to Easy Mac, cake from a box, and frozen ready-to-bake pizzas), but a girl can dream, right?