Freedom of Speech Bitches

This blog is called Seventeen, not parental advisory. If you don't like it, don't read it. I make my feelings perfectly clear, in life and online, so no one should be shocked by anything I write. Unless we don't ever speak. Unless we live in separate worlds. Or unless you happen to be my mom. Either way, get off my blog and stop dragging your distaste for my opinions into my life.
PS... if you haven't noticed, I couldn't care less.

We'll Have The Life We Knew We Would...

How can I even explain how I got to this place? Fate is a dear kind friend of mine. I haven't felt so loved in...ever. She is the most exceptionally caring girl that I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. I thought that if we started dating I would feel scared and back away but all I want to do is dive in. It just feels right. It is right. And all that I have to do now is enjoy this feeling of being exactly where I'm supposed to be. I'm going to give all that I have. It's going to be something else. It's going to work.
Sometimes you just know.


*If every simple song I wrote to you would take your breath away I'd write it all*

Swore That I'd Never Let You Back In...

Reading back on my posts was just too weird. It makes me feel naive, like I should have seen so much coming, even though I know I couldn't have. Usually when I don't blog on a personal level for a long time, I start by saying that so much has changed. But I feel that it probably wasn't ever the right thing to say. How much of my life ever really changes? Yes, it ebbs and flows and the drama wanes and then promptly returns to its epic level as per usual, but what else? Doesn't everything end up in the same place as it began?
That's how I feel right now, anyway. I'm on my - what is this now, I've lost count - fourth? attempt at getting over D. I think I've learned a lot in the past few tries. I know better than to pretend its an easy feat. It isn't. It's heartbreaking and difficult and I don't have an instruction manual to make it any easier or the ride less bumpy and winding. I deleted him off Facebook, I didn't answer his calls, I didn't ever find out what it was he wanted to ask me after I tore into him about being engaged (shortly). I don't ask about him. I try not to talk about him. I'm not searching out random hook-ups to try and see if that old Brazilian saying is right.
But sometimes, and I won't deny this, I think about him. Sometimes when Acacia and I are in Starbucks and the shop smells of Chai Lattes my mind wanders. I'm sure that when the snow falls this season I will remember walking the streets with him last year. Certain things bring me there. They remind me of him and there isn't much that I can do to stop it. I can only hope that in time these things will not leave me so flinching and that they will become rare.