When I'm cramping from my period, Nate liked to snuggle and puts his leg on top of my tummy. He doesn't it know it yet, but he calms the demon that lives within my loins, one month a time. A true American hero.

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When I'm cramping from my period, Nate liked to snuggle and puts his leg on top of my tummy. He doesn't it know it yet, but he calms the demon that lives within my loins, one month a time. A true American hero.
YO SNAPCHAT PLEASE DON'T GET RID OF THIS FILTER.
I make him out to be an asshole because that's what I can gain sympathy points with, but I'm just as bad.
It's scary to know that I've met someone who can deal with my crazy shit and still stick around for the end result. I'm not sure how much more I can test myself and my own limits with this. I'm confused on how toxic this is, or if this is me trying to writhe my way into ruining this dudes life.
A few of my friends don't approve - but the ones who've seen me at the good place in this have hope that this will work out. It's weird to know that even when you're single shit sucks, and when you're with someone it still sucks. He's made such a huge change in the last few days, I'm so fucking proud - but at the same time, I haven't changed for shit. I preach and don't complete.
Relfies. The revealing selfie.
following all these little young fashion bloggers on tumblr and instagram is my favorite. not because i admire them, but because i remember what it used to be like, barely starting out in the industry. like, ya'll into that bright eyed bushy tailed dressed to the 9's every day bullshit?
when your deadline is today's cancel date and your boss is shitting a brick - you tell me if those knock off birkenstocks and topshop crop tops are gonna save your dumb ass. no one is gonna hire you posing in front of Mood Fabrics, boo.
His name is Nathan.
If there is one thing that I'm learning about myself and the things that I'm trying to change about me, is that I'm not the victim if I refuse to change.
I don't get to have that luxury, and others shouldn't either.
Lately all I keep thinking about is how I should've just shut the fuck up. Like, I don't say how I'm feeling for a reason, and then something big and scary proves me right for being a feeling hoarder. Talking to doc makes me feel like I've buried so much shit in the past and now it's coming back to bite me in the ass. It was much easier to sweep things under the rug and forget about them, but I never realized how sentimental I actually am to little things. This new wave of emotions this month is leaving a lot of room for feeling like shit from the most unlikely places. It bugs me that I used to let all of this shit go - but it also bugs me that people remain set in their ways to change, but constantly make themselves out to be a victim. I often wonder if I'm doing the same thing. Doc said I'm trying to project so that I don't feel so bad - a side effect of moving on so quickly without proper means of dealing I guess. It makes sense. I just wish it didn't have to leave me so fucking sad when I want normal things like a general sense of stability, a nice apartment and a decent love interest that isn't going to make me feel like shit for being crazy or isn't going to judge me based on the fact that I am definitely crazy. There is no truth in words anymore.
I'm almost 30 and I'm writing about how I feel. What a disaster.
Conundrum.
Thick thighs tell no lies. No but srsly, I like the way they look right meow.