I woke up this morning to an empty house, an empty cabinet, and since it was 8:30 and I have to be at work at 10:00, there's not a whole lot I can do about it. Maybe I'm not the most independent person -- I miss my sweetheart even if I have seen him the night before. I especially miss him in the morning. I know we're getting married in six weeks, but that almost makes me more impatient. And patience has never been my strong point.
I never really expected to be getting married so young, but why put off something when you know. I still get butterflies after two years. We've traveled (part of) the world together and haven't killed each other. I've never feared for my heart's safety with him -- that's love.
Maybe this is a bit overly sentimental. But love, joy, happiness, letting go of dignity and fear. These are important and should be shared. It is easy to share our heartbreak, but love is more difficult. We keep it hidden deeply within ourselves. Why is that?
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