A sappy love song

“I read once that the ancient Egyptians had fifty words for sand & the Eskimos had a hundred words for snow. I wish I had a thousand words for love, but all that comes to mind is the way you move against me while you sleep & there are no words for that.”- Brian Andreas

You must all know from the very beginning that I am wildly, madly, unconditionally, and apologetically in love. And I apologize for that. 

I can promise you that I will talk about him frequently because he is my inspiration. So I figure before he becomes the anonymous "He" I would tell you a bit about him. . .  

He is perfect in a way that makes my imperfections seem beautiful. 

He used to sneak into my house and sleep next to me because when he was there my nightmares weren't scary. 

He bought and rebuilt his own Maserati when he was 17. Its name is Miri and he loves it more than anything in the world, except for me, he was always sure to make that very clear.

 He is just as clingy as I am, so he likes it when I hang onto his arm. I didn't know that was possible.

I went too far with him and don't regret it for a second.

He has less tact than your average bear, words were never his specialty.

 He shines in every way that I lack and he lets me do the same for him.

He has a way for romantic gestures and gives me lots of good stories to tell.

He left to serve a mission four months ago and I cried for a week.

He bought me an engagement ring before he left. It is hiding right now, but sometimes I put it on and cry in his car.

He is bitter that he graduated one A- short of a 4.0

He smells good always.

We have plans to build a house in Oregon near the beach.

He is in every version of the future I can think of.

To put it simply, He is the boy I love.      

Something About A Blank Page

"This is a blank page. It was made to be filled. Would you deny it it's destiny?"

Not to be egotistical but this is one of my favorite quotes. And I was the one to say it. I feel like to leave a page blank, to not fill it with words or doodles or scribbles of any sort is rude. It is robbing the page of its ability to be beautiful. And to take beauty from the world is wrong.

I decided that the written word is a beautiful thing. I mean these words that I am writing right now, they will be here in one million years. when I am dead and gone. when my children's children's children's children's children are grown and old and have filled the world with their stories and mine have become the cautionary tale that no one believe really happened. they will live through wars, plagues, and famines; see peace, prosperity, and happiness; transcend generations; endure critique; bask in the glory of praise. they will be here, an unchanging testament to who I am, the way few other things are.

Today is a day to fill my blank page. I could fill it with anything, my imagination is the limit. And after that i will go on other exciting voyages into the deep recesses of my brain. And who knows what beauty we will find there. Maybe a mermaid, or a leprechaun, or a girl with a yellow hat and green shoes. Maybe we will find out that a boy named Destry plays the didgeridoo in Manhattan, or Emery Jo-Ann is in love, or Bobert from Washington ate a jar of mayonnaise on a dare. Who knows, and who cares? Those are adventures for another day.