I want to do life with you.
I want to strap on my armor and fight for you, just as much as I fight for myself.
I want to stop living alone, doing everything damn thing on my own and rely on you to be there every damn day.
A tiny little place on the Internet. That’s all I need to write within.
A tiny little place to jot down my latest thoughts. Those funny little things that keep my mind going and going at all speeds all day long.
It feels like I can never truly express myself.
Because “myself” is mixed up. Muddy.
Not always pretty. Or right. Or happy. Or even okay.