#more feels.

[temp3r]

I miss those late night talks we talked endlessly about our kids and you would give me the best advice about what to do as Blaise gets older because you had the experience I didn't. It still hasn't fully sunk in, despite the many times I spent crying at night because realizing one of your best friends is gone is hard to cope with. I hate this. And that's why I've been drinking excessively lately. I feel like nobody understands and I'm going back to my drunken hole to blog about butts.

[anita-radcliffe-tow-blog]

our childhood, our home [TAG Odie]

Anita woke up to a plethora of scrapes and bruises, and managed to stifle a moan. She pushed her bare feet from underneath the borrowed blankets and groped for her glasses, blinking in the unfiltered daylight. Often described as harsh, daylight forced one to see the world as it was: nothing more, nothing less. Swinging her legs off the sofa, she took a deep breath and ran her hands through her hair, blinking around the hotel suite and grimacing. Yesterday, she had cried herself out, clinging onto Odie like a life raft, just like the times she had fallen out of trees or off bikes as a youngster. Exhausted and run dry, she had curled up on the sofa in the ladies' hotel suite and fallen into a dreamless sleep as her mind and body recovered. She felt far from rested, but for once she felt ready. There were things to deal with today, and she could just about face them.